Sex Ed
by MrBenzedrine
Summary: Hermione Granger comes to Hogwarts to teach a much needed Biology curriculum to the students. Draco Malfoy, the Potions teacher, doesn't approve of the sex ed. A bet ensues. Who will come out victorious? Rated M for lemons. COMPLETE. ****FIRST PLACE: BEST FLUFF/HUMOR 2017 Dramione Awards***
1. A Bet

**Sex Ed**

 **Summary: Hermione Granger comes to Hogwarts to teach a much needed Biology curriculum to the students. Draco Malfoy, the Potions teacher, doesn't approve of the sex ed. A bet ensues. Who will come out victorious?**

* * *

 **Chapter One: A Bet**

 **~"The Good, The Bad and The Dirty" by Panic! At The Disco**

* * *

The pitter patter of Hermione Granger's shoes as she stepped up the front steps of Hogwarts matched the nervous beating of her heart. It had been years since she had seen the school in all its grandeur. As she approached the looming sight of the front doors, anxiousness spread across her chest, up her neck, and into her jaw. She clenched it, breathing through her nose and reminding herself that she had nothing at all to be nervous for.

As if sensing her presence, one of the towering wooden doors opened on its own to her, and Hermione stepped inside with bags in hand. The school smelled of holiday peppermints and thick pine trees -one of the perks of arriving at Christmas holiday, she supposed. She sat her bags down for a moment, inhaling deeply through her nose. Aside from the festive smells, there was also the scents of books and stone and learning. It eased her mind, and she was able to shake out her nerves with some waves of her arms.

Argus Filch approached her from a side hall with a lantern, a foul glare written across his tempered features. "Ah…" he said, bringing the lantern down to his side. "Professor Granger, is it? Haven't seen you in quite some time."

"Hello." Hermione waved her hand gleefully. "Headmistress McGonagall should be expecting me-"

"-Yes." Filch said crossly, interrupting her. "She told me to escort you to your quarters and tell you she'd be out until tomorrow evening." He brushed a bit of his stringy hair out of his eyes and brought the lantern out between them. "Well, come on then. Haven't got all night, have I?"

"Right." Hermione reached down and grabbed her bags, thinking to herself that aside from a bit more gray in his hair, Filch hadn't changed a bit. She followed him down the hallway, eyes scanning whatever the light of his lantern illuminated as they traveled. Hogwarts hadn't changed, really, in all of the seven years she had been away. As she followed Filch up a changing staircase, she attempted a bit of small talk. "So, should I expect the students to be rather rowdy this term?"

Filch made a sound somewhere between a laugh and an airy squeak as he climbed the steps, back to her as he spoke. "The children are always brats, Professor. If I had my way, we'd be hanging them all up by their toes. As it is, remember that a good bout of detention does the trick to keep them in their place."

Hermione wanted to comment on the 'toes' suggestion to say that it was practically barbaric, but thought against it at the last moment. She might need Filch on her side later on, and calling him ignorant might put a damper should she need a repair to her classroom quickly.

They arrived in a small wing near the stairs leading down to the Slytherin dorms. At the end of the hall, a thick flight of stairs curled upwards in a spiral until it led to an old, wooden door with a black metal handle. "Since you're not a permanent teacher, we couldn't give you as large of a living quarter…" Filch told her, almost pleased with himself. "Up there."

"Of course… classes start back up tomorrow, yes?"

"Indeed."

"Well… thank you very much, Argus." Hermione took to the stairs as Filch hobbled on down the hallway until the light of his lantern was no longer in sight. When she got to her door, she glanced once down the staircase illuminated by the moon all the way to the steps leading down, down, down into the Slytherin dorms. It made her a bit uneasy, being so close, but… oh, it was only a Hogwarts House, for crying out loud. She turned the handle to the door, stepped inside her quaint room, and set her bags down. Yes. She could do this. It was only for a semester…

* * *

The first day of lessons had gone over well for the better part of the morning. Biology basics with the first years had been quite fun; she made the educational skeleton in her classroom dance around singing each of the bones in its body to the tune of London Bridge is Falling Down. She would have second and third years tomorrow, which meant that the class dedicated to her afternoon session would be fourth years, which brought up a very touchy curriculum. This was the entire reason McGonagall had asked her here in the first place; to educate the… hormonal teenagers to understand their bodies and how they work, in an effort to reduce the risk of sexual escapades in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When the Headmistress had approached her, Hermione had been quite satisfied with her position as lead Healer at St. Mungos. But once McGonagall had explained the new reform to incorporate certain extra curriculars, such as higher level Math, English and Sciences, Hermione could hardly refuse the opportunity to help. The pay wasn't as important as the lesson: perhaps if witches and wizards understood their bodies a bit more, there wouldn't be such an overabundance of young pregnancies.

"Understanding your body!" Professor Hermione Granger said enthusiastically, holding up a freshly bound Biology 101 book to her fourth year students. "This is an essential part of any young adult's growth and development. Headmistress McGonagall has asked me here this semester to teach you about the biology basics. About your body's changes," A few boys in the room sniggered under their breath, "And about what to do should you catch yourself acting on your hormones. In short- this will be a health class."

A young boy with sandy blonde hair and Slytherin robes stuck his hand up in the air.

"Yes? Mister Renaldo, wasn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Renaldo set his hand back down. "So… are you going to teach us about sex?"

Hermione Granger's face blanched. "That… is a subject that we will touch briefly on, yes."

"Cool." Renaldo smirked.

A Hufflepuff girl with curly hair much like Hermione's meekly drew her hand into the air. "Yes? Miss Fitz?"

"What was your profession before teaching?"

"A Healer. I still am." She smiled sweetly. She waved her wand theatrically, and before each student a small, velvet bag appeared in front of them. "Right. Let's start off with a pop quiz! Each one of you have been given an item in your bag. I'd like you to pull it out, identify it, and explain its purpose! If you don't know, or are unsure, that is perfectly acceptable. I would like you to try your hardest, even if some of the items are unfamiliar to-"

"Bloody Hell!" A red-headed boy shouted as he waved a brassiere up in the air. "I've hit the jackpot!"

The room burst out in a fit of nervous giggles and unabashed laughter. Hermione simply kept her cool smile perched on her face and nodded once. "Mister Hammond, why don't we start with you? What item did you receive in your bag?"

"I got a bra," Jeremy Hammond smirked, waving it in his partner's face (a small, wispy girl with white blonde hair by the name of Sarah Tumlin).

"Yes. You received some undergarments." Hermione acknowledged. "What is its purpose?"

"I… I don't think I should say…" Hammond replied, his face turning beet red.

The young man named Renaldo was oh so eager to answer, throwing his hand up into the air and waving it vigorously. When Hermione called on him, he clasped his hands to his chest in a mock fashion and answered, "They're to protect the boobies." The boys, and a couple of girls, sniggered behind their books.

"Breasts," She corrected him, "They're called breasts. And they're not for protection, Renaldo. They're for support. Honestly, what would breasts need protection from?"

The meek girl, Sarah, raised her hand. "Professor Granger… are you… allowed to speak this way? It's a bit informal…"

"Talking about the body is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Tumlin, I assure you. The more open you are to talk about it, the more educated you will become, and the better decisions you will make in regards to your personal body. -What did you receive in your bag?"

Sarah reached in and pulled out a tiny square shaped bit of foil. "I… I'm not sure…"

"That is a condom." Hermione reached out and plucked it from Sarah's grasp, holding it up into the air for the class to see. "How many of you are familiar with this?" A few of the muggle born students raised their hands, and possibly one or two from the half-blood group. Hermione sat the condom back down in front of Sarah and said, "A condom is a form of protection used in safe practices of intercourse."

"Heh, she said 'intercourse,'" sniggered a pudgy boy in the back.

"Oh, grow up," said his partner, a dark haired girl with pigtails and stunningly blue eyes. "Honestly, Liam, you possess the emotional capacity of plastic dinosaur." The girl stood up and offered out her item; a sign that read 'no means no'. "I'm Lidia Penelope Cornelia. I received a sign that says 'no means no', which is in reference to when a boy or girl wishes to stop any type of act, sexual or otherwise."

Hermione's mouth fell open for a moment, taken aback. She was reminded of herself as a young girl and had to stifle a giggle into her hand. "Very good, Miss Cornelia. You may be seated."

Penelope looked thoroughly pleased with herself as she took her seat and began to scribble notes onto her parchment.

"I'd like everyone to take the rest of the class to analyze the items in your bags and give me a one page report on your analysis. Parchments will be due by the end of class, and you are more than welcome to work with your partners."

As the class set to work on their tasks at hand, pulling parchments out of their bags and dumping the contents of their bags to the tables, two Slytherin girls in the back were sniggering as they observed their contraceptive potion. They had no idea that as their professor was circling the class to observe, she could overhear their giggling conversation.

"Do you think our new Potions professor would teach us this in his class?"

"He can brew my potion any day."

"He's so dreamy…" The one with lighter hair set her face in her hand and prodded the potion with her finger. "I call dibs."

"You cannot call dibs, Tabitha. He's at least ten years your senior."

"Oh, I highly doubt that. Have you seen his dreamy eyes? They're so youthful. No, I doubt he's that much older than us."

Hermione stopped behind them, pretending to observe her clipboard, but in truth she was enticed by their conversation. While these two were much too young for a handsome potion's professor, she herself was a sexually active (and deprived) adult. She hadn't met a single other teacher since she arrived (Headmistress McGonagall planned to introduce her tonight at the evening feast), so she was actually quite anxious to hear about her fellow Professors. Especially if they were handsome. Heaven's bells… she needed to get out more.

"Do you think they're naturally that silver? Or do you think he wears contacts?"

That should have been the first tip off. She would realize that later when she sat in bed and played over her first day in her head. But now, in the moment, it didn't dawn on her to whom they were referring. She simply listened as she checked off imaginary checklists on her clipboard, which really only carried a blank piece of parchment.

"Well, that hair has to be dyed, don't you think? Or maybe a potion?"

"Who cares? I heard he's single!"

Lidia Penelope Cornelia turned around in her chair and glared at the two girls. "Professor Malfoy isn't interested in curds like you two. Now if you'd kindly shut it, I'm trying to work."

There was a slow crawl of the chills that crept up Hermione's back until they hit the back of her neck. She was sure she had heard incorrectly. No. She hadn't heard Professor Malfoy. Perhaps it had been Professor Altoy. Or Maldoy… one could dream, couldn't she? Or maybe there was another Malfoy family that she had never heard of who possessed silver eyes and startling hair?

She'd have to assess the situation first hand at the banquet tonight.

* * *

After Professor- correction, Headmistress McGonagall introduced Hermione to the entire Hogwarts Castle, she was quite perturbed to see that the Potions teacher was, in fact, Draco Lucius Malfoy, the same blonde haired, arrogant twat from her days of education in this very school. Oh, how history loved to repeat itself she thought idly as she stabbed at a bit of potatoes on her plate between Neville Longbottom, who had taken residency as the Herbology teacher, and Professor Trelawney, who she most certainly didn't give any real merit to as a Professor. It _would_ be fitting that the same boy who favored his former Death Eater Potions Professor would follow in his footsteps…

"It's great to see you again, Hermione," said Neville, digging into his meat and potatoes medley on his plate. Malfoy -or, she corrected herself, Professor Malfoy, sat on the opposite side of Neville, ignoring most of the other staff and pushing around some carrots on his plate as if they disinterested him. When Hermione had been presented to the school, he had been the only professor not to stand for her.

"Great to see you too, Neville. Or should I say, Professor Longbottom?" She gave him a large smile and nudged him in the arm playfully.

Neville gave her a softening, half-hearted grin back and whispered, "Actually, I just have the students call me Professor L. -Longbottom tends to be a subject of humor amongst the younger ones, and it gets a tad old after a while."

"Can't imagine why…" came the lulling, monotone voice of Malfoy, speaking for the first time this evening, and really, the first time in seven years for Hermione. She leaned forward at the table and careened her eye line towards him, giving a predisposition scowl. Malfoy was still staring at his plate when she responded.

"Well, I see that you're still you're charming self."

She watched his profile as he stared down at his plate, the sides of his lips curving up into that infamous smirk he had been known for. He didn't train his eyes away from his food, but he did manage to reply, "Still standing up for the pathetic, I see?"

Neville's back went ridged, but he turned his face to Hermione and said simply, "Ignore him. We all do."

Malfoy grinned, but said nothing. Hermione glanced around to McGonagall a few seats down and back to Neville's table mate. So much for being interested in the new Potion's teacher…

* * *

 **Two weeks later**

* * *

"Professor Granger, would you care to explain what it is exactly that you're teaching in your classroom?"

Hermione forced a smile on her soft lips, staring up from her desk at her once childhood foe and set down her quill. "Excuse me?"

"Don't try to feign innocence with me," he said, slamming down a copy of her in-class text book and turning to page 103. His long index finger slid over the sketch of a naked woman with her internal organs diagramed in the corner of the page. "I caught one of my students reading this in my class today. So what filth do you think you're trying to bring into this school, Granger?"

Her eyes trailed over the image as a smirk quirked up in the corners of her lips. She glanced up at his silver-blue eyes as her own danced with amusement. "It's called the human body, Professor Malfoy. Honestly, if we had my sort of classes back when we were in school, perhaps you wouldn't be asking me silly questions like this." She slammed the book shut on his finger, and he withdrew it with a hiss of breath. He brought his finger up to his lips, suckling on the tip as blood rushed to his injured finger.

Professor Malfoy (or just Malfoy, as Hermione associated him in her mind) had hardly aged since their years in Hogwarts. His hair was still that white-blonde that the Malfoy family wore with pride. His eyes had darkened ever so slightly, and perhaps the corners of his lips had thin laugh lines that hadn't been there in his youth, but his skin was still that ivory cream with hardly a blemish, and his body was still that wondrous slender frame. Maybe a bit taller… but that happened to most men around their twenties, so she shouldn't be surprised. But it _did_ surprise her at how handsomely he wore that heinous scowl as he plucked the book back from off her desk and held it like it was a dragon-pox riddled blanket. "You're a biology class. You shouldn't be teaching children about… this."

"What? Their sexual organs?"

"Yes, that."

Hermione bit down on her tongue to keep from laughing. "Look, Malfoy… Children need to learn these things. If they don't, they might not understand the consequences of what happens when they use said organs in their teenage hormonal states."

Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Does Headmistress McGonagall know you're teaching this sort of filth?"

"Actually, she's the one who approached me to teach it," she replied haughtily, her amusement turning to annoyance as she rose from her chair and squared up his glare with her own. "Don't tell me you don't approve?"

"Of course I don't. Especially when your curriculum distracts students from learning anything of substantial importance in _my_ classroom."

"Oh, because children learning about their own bodies is far less important than how to brew a headache potion? You know, in the muggle world, we just take a Tylenol."

"A what?" Malfoy squished up his face in confusion. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her last sentence. "You know Potions is a far more important life lesson."

"Says who?"

"Says the entire wizarding world!"

"Really? I'll have you know I was a Healer before this. And do you know what saved lives? Understanding the human body."

"Understanding an erection saved someone's life?" He smirked. "Yes, I'm sure that's a valid story. Oh, wait. No, I'm quite sure that's never happened."

"What is it I can help you with this evening, Professor Malfoy?" Hermione sighed. "Or did you simply come here to belittle my curriculum?"

"The latter."

She blinked. "Well… if you'll excuse me." She gathered up her paperwork from her desk, slipped them into her briefcase, and stepped around her desk. She brushed past him, brushing shoulders and knocking him off balance.

He caught himself, straightened his posture, and called back to her, "I never took you for a pervert back in school. I suppose the timid ones are always full of surprises."

The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck hackled, and she turned on her toes, swinging her briefcase in tow to stomp back to him, leaving only inches of space. "Alright, Professor Malfoy. If you're so intelligent, what, pray tell, should a student do if she finds herself in a classroom in the middle of the day and she starts her menstrual cycle? Care to share with the classroom?" Malfoy's face blanched, his eyebrows quirking up in a mixture of horror and confusion. "Oh? Don't have an answer? Alright, let's try again. What should a young man do if he finds himself without the ability to brew a contraceptive potion and is in the company of a young lady he plans to have intercourse with? And in that case, would you care to explain a condom and how it works?"

"I-I…" Malfoy backed away, red tinting his cheeks. With satisfaction, Hermione stepped closer. She knew Malfoy was no prude -the rumors back in their sixth year confirmed that he enjoyed a sexual romp as much as any other sexually charged sixteen year old, but she knew he had been raised by the old ways. The pureblood ways, where discussing sex in a chat was not done unless it was with the person you planned to be intimate with. She knew that in this moment, she had him cornered by a discussion that would make him squirm, and it thrilled her. She could silently feel the justice for all of those years of taunting her, Ron, and Harry coming to fruition.

"Is that too complicated? I'll give you one more chance. Give me the definition of an ovary and its purpose."

With a scowl, Draco Malfoy pursed his lips and crossed his arms. "Are you quite through?"

"Hardly." She wore her victorious smile well as she mirrored him and crossed her arms as well. "And you didn't answer the question."

"That's because I don't need to prove myself to you."

"Or perhaps it's because you cannot."

"Look. I simply came here to tell you that if I catch my students reading your dirty textbooks in my class again, I will give them all detention. So perhaps you should think about finding a new way to teach children about their bodies appropriately."

Hermione laughed shrilly. "My curriculum is appropriate. The only one that doesn't see it that way is you. Funny, I never took you for much of a prude."

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "I assure you, Granger. I'm no prude."

"I beg to differ," she said, jutting out her chin and standing her ground. "The only other person I've ever seen get so flustered by my lessons is Ron. And believe me, he was _quite_ a prude."

His mouth fell open, and his eyebrows shot up. "How _dare_ you compare me to Weasley?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do when you react the same way?" She shrugged in show. "You seem to think your old ways are the only ways, but I guarantee you they are outdated. It's probably why you haven't found yourself a wife," she nudged down to his ring barren left hand, "on account of not understanding her… sexual needs in the bedroom."

He snorted, glancing down at her hand. "You're one to judge. I don't see a ring on your finger either." Malfoy picked at an invisible speck of dirt at his robes and uncrossed his arms. "Alright, _Professor_." He seethed the word, as if he most certainly didn't believe she deserved the title. "Let's make a wager then, shall we?"

Hermione's heart jumped. The way he was smirking would have made anyone's leap out of their chest; it was full of deviance and cunning intentions. She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. "Alright. What sort of a wager?"

He chuckled, low and deep from the back of his throat. "Let's let the students decide who is the better teacher."

She felt the balloon in her chest deflate. "And how do you expect to do that?"

"You continue this… circus performance you call a curriculum. Teach them about your silly 'condons' and 'ovaries'-"

"Condoms." She corrected him.

"Yes, yes. All that. And I'll teach them the 'old ways' as you call it. We'll test it out on the older students -the fourth years and up. And by the end of it, we quiz them on which information they retained. I guarantee you, they'll retain the magic a lot more than the whole muggle bit you think is so important."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "Oh, please. I'd mop the floor with your curriculum. Not everything about the human body can be validated with a potion."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose if you're too afraid…"

"I am _not_ afraid." She looked him once over and inhaled. "What does the winner receive?"

"What are you willing to lose?" He smirked, shrugging. "I dunno. How about whomever wins at the end must grade the other's papers for a month?"

Hermione grinned. "I rather like that idea. It would be so fun to watch you grade papers on a woman's menstrual cycle."

The red tint flushed up his cheeks once again, but he ignored it and jutted his hand out to her. "So we have a deal, then?"

She glanced down at his hand, and back up to his silver flecked eyes. Against her better judgement, she grabbed it and shook. "Very well. Deal."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! This is going to be a comedic bit. There will be lemons (in time.) Please let me know what you thought! Special thanks to LightofEvolution for the plot idea! *hearts***

 **Please make sure to follow for chapter updates!**  
 **A.**

 **If you like this work, please check out my completed stories (which are a tad different) called "Drinking Buddies" and "How To Train Your Auror."**


	2. A Taunt

_I am absolutely overwhelmed by all of the positive feels behind this new story! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, Favorited, and/or followed Sex Ed from the get go. I also would like to thank a reviewer, Frogster, for the suggestion to combine classrooms. I might have taken an idea or two... Anyways, here's chapter 2!_

 _A._

* * *

 **"Allie" by Patrick Stump**

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared down at his blank bit of parchment on the top of his desk, frustrated beyond a shadow of a doubt. He unclasped the top button of his work robes and loosened his tie, anticipating a long and frustrating night of re-constructing his curriculum to adhere to his bet with Granger. _I'm such a dolt_ he thought huffily. He hadn't entirely thought it through when he had approached her about her scandalous text book. Really, he had just wanted to egg her on a bit. Learning that one of your childhood rivals was now going to be a regular, everyday occurrence would get under anyone's skin. And besides, that textbook had been less than acceptable by his standards. Why on Earth did children need to talk about their sexual urges in a classroom setting? Wasn't that what a good romp in the restricted section was for?

With a heavy sigh, he began to scribble down all of the potions in his mind arsenal that he could muster that would apply to the topic at hand. There were potions for contraception, hormonal changes, menstrual cycles (wince), pregnancies, acne… well, the list could go on and on. And they could be easily brewed in the privacy of one's home. All of that muggle stuff Granger wanted to bring up in class… well… that's what one's parents were for. It was highly inappropriate for a Professor to have that kind of rapport with her students, as if sex was a topic that should be held in civil conversation… hmph…

"Merlin's saggy left testicle, I sound like a prude," he sighed to himself.

"Well, at least that's something we can both agree on," said a confident, airy voice from his classroom doorway. Draco pried his eyes upwards and away from his notes to Professor Granger, still dressed in her work robes and carrying a large clipboard.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

Granger wore a simple smile as she approached him, stopping only when she made it to the opposite end of his desk and took a seat atop one of the work benches meant for the children to brew potions on. _Not_ for her slim figure to sit precariously atop of the countertop with her long legs peeking out from underneath those atrocious robes that were three sizes too large for her slender frame. Draco didn't _mean_ to analyze her appearance, but he was so desperate for something to tease her about that he found himself dragging his eyes over the brown curls of her hair and her unblemished face, aside from a few scattered freckles along the bridge of her nose. She used to be such an ugly little brute when they were children, what with her frizzy hair and buck teeth. Now, her hair only accentuated her smooth skin, framing her slender neck and drawing attention down to her delicate collar bone. He jerked his eyes away quickly and settled them back on her brown eyes. _Merlin_ , he needed to get laid. Even Hermione Granger was looking like a promising prospect at this point… and that was just simply unacceptable.

He sat up straighter in his chair, fiddling with his tie. When she didn't answer him, he asked again, "What do you want?" He snapped his fingers in the air haughtily.

"Oh. Yes." She jerked her attention back to him as if she had been lost in thought. Her hands pushed out and presented her clipboard out to him for him to take, which he did (begrudgingly). "I sat down on some of my downtime today and wrote up a proposal-"

"Aww, Granger, I'm so flattered," He said dryly.

She rolled her eyes and continued, "A proposal for an intermediate schedule during the week to combine our efforts in the sexual education of the students."

Draco raised a cool, collected eyebrow and smirked. "Combined efforts? Is that what you're calling our little row?"

"If our little row ends up educating the children on the curriculum I planned to teach already, why not take advantage of your credentials?"

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that sounded like a compliment."

"Good thing you know better, then." She stood up from her seat and leaned a hand down across his planner, unassumingly pushing her breasts in his eye line, even if they were covered by the thick ebony material of her robes. Draco had to concentrate on keeping his attention down to her finger pressed firmly on the clipboard. Breasts were breasts, and he was only a man. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and followed her finger to the highlighted, boxed, and numbered brackets of the schedule she had outlined. "I asked Headmistress McGonagall for a copy of your schedule so that I could adhere it to my own. I notice that you and I both have fifth years on Tuesdays, sixth years on Wednesdays, fourth years on Thursdays, and on Fridays: the seventh years. I thought that perhaps, once a week, we could concentrate our efforts on one class together."

"You want to combine our classrooms once a week?"

"So that each class gets an educational, combined class once a month. It would ensure both of us could keep an eye out for how the other teaches, what we'd like to compare and contrast, and then we can access the situations through quizzes at the end of each month." She smiled triumphantly down at him, only mere inches from his face. Draco was vaguely aware that she smelled of lavender and roses as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and awaited his answer.

Oh. That's right. He should say something, shouldn't he? "Let me guess. You've already cleared this with the Headmistress."

"Yup!" She flashed her (now) perfectly straight teeth and gave a conceited wave of the hand. It made him nauseous at how chipper she was with herself. No one should ever be that happy. He silently prayed he could find a way to knock her down a peg or two. "What say you, Malfoy? Think you could handle a classroom with me?"

"I did it for six years of my childhood. What's another half a year?" He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair to keep himself from inhaling her scent any longer; it was doing things to his body he didn't particularly agree with. "Tell me, Professor Granger, what do you call that scent you're wearing _? Ode de insufferable perfectionist_?"

"Actually, it's called _Malfoy's a prude number 7_."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" He snorted a laugh and leaned forward again, this time pressing his face into her personal space just to annoy her. And it did- or at least, he _thought_ it did, because her cheeks tinted a marvelous shade of magenta. "Tell you what, why don't you just come to my dormitory sometime and I'll show you how far from a prude I _really_ am." He quirked up a superior, suggestive eyebrow, reveling in her display of horror and disgust.

She scrambled for a response, clinging to one like a life raft as she spoke. "Are you that desperate for intimacy that you'd stoop to inviting _me_ into your dormitories? Have you forgotten that I'm _muggle born_? I had no idea the Malfoy name would allow itself to be tarnished with the idea of me screaming your name beneath you."

Draco felt his cheeks flush -one, because she was talking about sex, and two, because the idea of any woman screaming his name beneath him sent a jolt through his lower abdomen like an electrical heatwave. Despite his embarrassment, he managed to retort with an air of confidence, "So… you're a screamer?"

The look he procured from her was priceless; her jaw unhinged as her mouth fell open, parting those soft, alluring lips… damn it. No. Not alluring. Stupid. Stupid lips from a stupid woman with a stupid name. What sort of name was ' _Hermione_ ' anyways?

Granger managed to snap her mouth closed as she snatched up her clipboard and slipped the top bit of parchment out and shoved it into his face. Draco scrambled back, grasping at the insulting paper and yanking it out of his face. When he caught her eyes again, they were flooded with anger, despite the calm nature in which she spoke. "That's your copy. And I really don't care if you approve of the schedule or not. It's already been sanctioned by the Headmistress herself." She stood up, pushing out those perky, modestly covered mounds of flesh that had peaked Draco's interest. "The schedule starts next week. I've written down each topic and color coordinated it to its appropriated week."

"Ever the little quibbler."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

She turned on her heels and sauntered out of the doorway quicker than Draco could retort, "That's _Professor_ Malfoy to you!" But she was already gone, and he was left seated in his chair with a half-formed erection pressing frustratingly against his zipper.

Yup. He definitely needed to get laid. And soon, before he actually let himself think of Granger as a sexual prospect.

No. Cold shower. Hand. That's what he had used for these last six months. He could hold out until the end of term. He wouldn't allow himself the thought of himself buried deep within Hermione Granger as she clawed at his back and screamed his name into oblivion.

* * *

Hermione threw herself down onto the firm, musty smelling mattress of her bed and tried to push out the infuriating silver-gray eyes of one Draco Lucius Malfoy from behind her eyelids. Perhaps this entire situation was already out of hand -when he had suggested (in a breath of hot air, of course, he'd never actually meant it) that she could come back to his dormitories, there was this mortified part of her that secretly wanted to take him up on the offer. And it wasn't because she liked him -far from it. She actually despised the man on nearly every level. But it had been nearly two years since she had been… intimate… with anyone. And that anyone's name was Ronald Weasley.

She could still recall the way his lips felt on hers and the way his firm hands would rake across her body. They'd broken it off for childish reasons, but it had still left an emotional scar deep on Hermione's psyche to the point that she hadn't allowed herself intimacy with anyone else since. It had all been so innocent -all she had wanted to do was try something exciting in the bedroom. Like –leaving it, for one.

She closed her eyes tighter, trying to fight off the fiendish memories, but they prevailed. She could still hear Ron's words ringing in her ears like bells.

 _"You want to what now?"_

 _"Tonight. At the dinner party. I thought maybe we could… sneak off." Hermione bit her lower lip as she tried to entice her then boyfriend Ronald Weasley to venture into uncharted waters with her at Harry and Ginny's engagement dinner._

 _Ron gave her an incredulous look and rubbed the back of his thick, red hair. "I dunno, Mione. I mean… we could get caught."_

 _"Yes, but that's the thrill of it, isn't it?"_

 _"You get a thrill out of being caught?"_

 _"Well, no." She frowned. "Just the idea that we could be caught. Doesn't that sound like an experience worth having?"_

 _"Not really, no." Ron's eyebrows furrowed together. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I love what we do when we're alone. But that's it. We're alone. I don't think I could stomach it if Ginny or my Mum caught me going at it with you in the lavatory."_

 _Hermione's heart burst ever so slightly. "Oh. But you could go at it with Lavender Brown in the halls of Hogwarts, no issues?"_

 _"What?" He scowled. "That's not fair, Hermione. I was young. Impressionable."_

 _"That was four years ago. You're hardly much older than you were."_

 _"Don't get all snippy with me," he sighed. "I just don't think I'm interested in that kind of… stuff."_

 _"Stuff? Is that what you're calling our relationship? Stuff?"_

 _"Oh come on. You know that's not what I meant. I meant the…" His voice lowered. "The dirty bit."_

 _"Oh my lord, Ronald!" Hermione's voice waned of patience. "It's sex! Just call it what it is! Sex!"_

 _"Alright, Hermione! Sex!" He shouted back. "I don't want to deviate from the_ _sex we've been having! The sex we've been having is fine!"_

 _"Is it?" She found herself yelling back at him. "Well, I'm glad you're satisfied! Because I hardly think that ten minutes in a missionary position is_ _fine!"_

 _"We do it with you on top too!" He said pathetically, ears turning a brilliant shade of scarlet._

 _"Yes. And when have you stopped to consider the meaning of foreplay?"_

 _"I touch you," he said, quieter. "I dunno what you want from me."_

 _"Kiss me. Ravish me. Take me like I'm the last woman on Earth, Ron. That's what I want." She put her hands on her hips and sighed. "I want to be more adventurous."_

 _Ron swallowed, mouth closing shut in an attempt to stifle the nervous laughter as he shifted on his feet from one foot to the other. "If I'm such an inadequate lover, why don't you go find someone who'll stoke your fires?" His words slapped her like a broomstick to the face._

 _Hermione's chest seized up, and her breathing caught. "You… you don't mean that."_

 _"Maybe I do," he whispered, sticking his hands in his pockets. He looked sad, but determined, as he spoke. "I dunno what it is, Hermione. We have fun together outside of the bedroom, but… you're right. It isn't working between us."_

 _"I never said our -relationship- wasn't working. I only meant that-"_

 _"-I know what you meant," he interrupted her. "But I know what I mean too. And I don't think this is working."_

 _"Ron…"_

 _He batted away a tear that had fallen down his cheek and stalked towards the floo. "Look… I'll owl you, alright? I just… need some time to think."_

That had been two years ago. Two long years of awkward family dinners and awkward questions from friends and awkward glances across the Ministry and awkward resignations from the Ministry from Hermione to pursue an awkward career as a Healer because damn it, the awkwardness had been much too much to handle.

She swiped at some stray tears and rolled over, sticking her face into her pillow.

So, maybe the idea of shagging Malfoy until his breath was ragged was just her sexually deprived hormones. That's what she told herself as she breathed heavily into the pillow to slow down her heartbeat. She wondered if Malfoy even knew what sexual deviancy was, or if he was just as vanilla as Ron. With his views on sexual education, Hermione came to the assumption that it was probably the latter.

But what if he weren't? What if he was actually a sexually pent up sex-god who loved to take a woman in the Restricted section of the library under the light of a muted lantern? What if he knew exactly how to please a woman as he teased her nipples and played with her between her legs and fed her dirty, filthy language in her ear, all whilst pressing up against her in the most immodest way possible? What if he got off on spanking and tie ups and oral reciprocation?

Hah. Yeah right. And what if pigs could fly as well?

But the thought of Malfoy playing with her fed a churning, scorching ember deep within her core. It helped that he was something to look at, even if he was a snot nosed git with way too much inheritance to count. His pointed features had made him look like a ferret as a child -now they only made his smirk that much more engrossing and his eyes that much more fascinating. And there was that pressing matter of that Morsmordre Mark on his left arm that sent out giant red flags everwhere: _Danger! Danger! Do not approach! Do not even think of him in that way! Ex Death Eater! Hello? Are you there? Earth to Hermione Jean Granger!_

Well, that did it. That completely took away her sexual urges.

That was, until she thought of him peeling a thin, silky shirt off of his head to reveal said Mark. Was he built, she wondered? Was he obnoxiously skinny underneath those robes? Or did he have wiry muscles that connected down to a pelvic V? Perhaps the curtains matched the drapes?

Oh, for the love of House Elves! This wasn't getting her anywhere.

Hermione gave a heated huff as her hand traveled down between her legs to rub up against the flannel material of her pajama pants. She slipped her fingers underneath the thin elastic and traveled further, right over the fabric of her silk underwear. As she slid delicate circles over her lustful arousal, she closed her eyes again and tried to imagine a faceless-gentlemen who didn't possess white-blonde hair doing unholy things to her in this bed right now. This faceless gentleman, and _not_ Malfoy, would know to kiss up and down the length of her neck while teasing her with his long, pianist fingers. He would bite her shoulder; not enough to bruise, but enough to elicit a timid gasp from her as he pulled her flesh against him so that she could feel the firm muscle of his erection press into her backside.

Her fingers slipped under her panties and found the wet, wanting flesh of her excitement and frustration, rubbing up and down her begging lips in an attempt to relieve some of this sexual frustration.

The not-Malfoy man would know to push his fingers up against her aching center, not quite dipping it in yet, but drawing careful circles around it while whispering filthy things in her ear like, 'Want to make you scream my name.' and 'Put your pretty little lips to good use.' He'd then press a sure finger into her, filling her up for the first time in years, while running those graceful lips over the shell of her ear to whisper…

Knock, knock, knock.

Hermione growled in frustration, jettisoning herself upright and removing her hand from between her legs. Even in the privacy of her own dorms, she couldn't get release. She hastily slipped out of bed, bundling her favorite red plush blanket that she had brought from home around herself as she trudged over to the door and threw it open.

" _What_?" She seethed, not even knowing (or really caring) who was on the other side.

Much to her chagrin, it was none other than the _not_ object of her sexual fantasy moments ago, Draco Malfoy. He wore a casual set of robes, his tie removed, and an insatiable smirk written in the lines of his face. He sniggered behind his hand before setting it down at his side to say, "Well hello to you too."

"P-Professor Malfoy." Hermione's eyes widened, and she drew the blanket skintight around her. "What are…" She cleared her throat, suddenly very aware of the way her knickers pooled in warmth and wetness at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just doing my nightly patrol and thought I'd come here to give you this." He glanced down to his chest and withdrew a small envelope from his breast pocket. Hermione raised an eyebrow as he handed it to her and tucked his hands behind his back.

"You climbed all of those steps just to give me this?"

"I think you'll find that being a Professor at Hogwarts gives you quite a bit of downtime." His tone was light hearted -playful even. But Hermione had never seen Draco Malfoy be playful, so perhaps she was reading into it the wrong way. Yes, that would have to be it. "Open it."

"In front of you?"

"Yes. Of course. I want to see your face when you do." He flashed her a set of pearly whites and stared intently into her eyes.

Hermione, baffled, reached down, opened the envelope, and pulled out a thick card stock square that read in graceful handwriting, ' _Do you scream when you lose, too?_ '

She could feel the muscles around her eyes pull, and she knew that all of the blood to her entire body had pulled up into her face. She could probably blend in with the Weasleys: her face would have matched their hair entirely. Hermione pried her eyes up to Malfoy's face, which seemed to be quite satisfied with her reaction.

His smirk widened, and he laughed quietly to himself. "Priceless." He sent a hand waving in the air as he stepped back from the threshold of her doorway and made it to the top of the staircase. "Have a pleasant evening, Professor Granger!" His laughs could be heard the entire time as he made his way down her staircase, and even a bit more as sauntered down the hallway to patrol the schools once more.


	3. A Question

**Yay for all of the love! Thank you everyone for your thoughts and suggestions. Special thanks to LightofEvolution for giving me real source material of teenage questions to work with. Hope everyone loves the chapter!**  
 **A.**

* * *

 **"Birds Do It" by KONGOS**

* * *

"Today, we will be answering any, and all, questions you might have." Professor Granger began. "So please. Take a seat and write anonymously on the cards provided for you about questions you have about this classroom, what you'd like to take away from this course, or perhaps any concerns that you might want to address. I assure you, no question is a ridiculous one, and curiosity doesn't kill the cat."

Draco Malfoy quirked up a silent eyebrow as he thought about another name for a cat and how curiosity had gotten the better of him to want to pet Granger's instead of humoring this unbearable class with his presence. They had decided to host the combined classes in the Great Hall; one, because it held all four houses of each year with no issues, and two, because being stuck in a cramped room with each other would surely make them want to rip out each other's hair (in anger, of course. Not lust. Never lust.)

The students had been encouraged by Professor Granger to sit where they wanted, regardless of House status, and so the overly excited Fifth years scattered in a vast array of reds, greens, blues and yellows. One of Draco's personal favorites, a Slytherin lad by the name of Wallace Prince, was chatting up two Hufflepuff girls at the same time. It did Draco's heart proud.

Professor Granger looked a bit flushed today, he noticed, as she fanned herself with her hand. She was purposefully avoiding his gaze at every opportunity, only sharing glances when absolutely imperative to the preparation of class. The class was held in the evening, before dinner, so the students had spent a majority of their morning with free time. It added to their rowdiness. In the center of the Hall, near Headmistress McGonagall's podium, sat a cubed box with a slit at the top. Written on the sides were little question marks and bobbly eyes. It was a tad childish, Draco thought, but then again, these _were_ children. He was sure that they couldn't ask too many questions. They had the Restricted section and Granger's deplorable textbook to go off of.

One by one, the students came up to the box and dropped their card through the slit; some were anxious and quick, others in groups or pairs as they giggled into their hands. A crowd of Gryffindor adolescent girls gave Draco the 'I want to do my Professor' eyes as they turned in their cards. Draco was both flattered and repulsed. He was _not_ into prison-bait, thank you very much.

Granger's face flushed a bit more as she walked up to him, clipboard used as her fan. "Is it hot in here today?"

Draco smirked. He _might_ have had a hand in casting a heating charm to her wardrobe while she wasn't looking earlier in the hour. It would wear off eventually, but he did enjoy the bit of discomfort she had in her robes while she attempted to keep a calm head in front of her students. "No, I guess that's just you."

"Oooh!" One of the Gryffindor boys close by nudged his friend in the arm. "Did you hear that? Professor Malfoy called Professor Granger hot!"

"I assure you, Mr. Wayne, that was the furthest thing from my mind," Draco sneered, giving them a tasteful scowl that would have made Severus Snape proud.

Granger chuckled into the back of her hand and fanned herself with her clipboard. "Either way, it _is_ what you said, Professor." She reached up to the top button of her robes and pulled it through its loop.

"What are you doing?" Draco frowned.

"I'm removing my robes," she replied simply as she undid the second button. "Here, hold this." She shoved the clipboard into his hands and set to work on her robes.

Draco cleared his throat, attempting to avert his eyes elsewhere. "That's highly unprofessional."

"Well I'm not stark nude under them. See?" As the last button was undone, she let the fabric fall off of her shoulders to reveal a red polo shirt and khaki capris. The shirt clung tightly around her womanly curves, accentuating the allure -no, the immodesty of her breasts. Draco shook his head from his daze as she tossed her robes onto his head. "Ah. Much better."

"What the-what!" He reached up and grappled at the fabric, pulling it off of his face and throwing it down to the floor. "Professor Granger," he began, "I know that you've only been here less than a month, but at Hogwarts we have a strict dress code that dictates certain articles of clothing must be worn by the students as well as the professors during teaching hours."

"Oh, believe me, Professor Malfoy, I'm very much aware. But I don't know if I could have taken a moment longer in those."

"I'll report you," he challenged.

She raised a cool eyebrow. "And I'll simply tell the Headmistress you hexed my robes."

Damn her. Damn her always being a step ahead.

Professor Granger gathered up her robes from the bottom of his feet, bending over. Her face was mere inches from his pelvis, and it took everything in him not to think about what her face would be like down there and all of his clothing removed. Did she have a soft tongue? Was it wet and teasing and-

"Professor Malfoy?"

"- _What_?" He jerked his eyes in the direction of a fifth year Ravenclaw girl with flaxen colored hair. "Oh. Erm. Ms. Wallum. What do you need?"

"I was just curious, sir," she said, playing with one of her curls as she twirled it around her finger, "Why you're teaching this class with Professor Granger. What does Potions have to do with Sexual Education?"

Draco internally winced. Hearing one of his students utter the word 'sexual' was just not on his list of things to do today.

As always, Granger was quick to chime in, setting a hand on Draco's shoulder and giving her best teacher-smile. "Quite a bit, actually. Isn't that right, Professor Malfoy? Doesn't Potions have to do with _Sexual Education_?"

"You're enjoying this too much…" He muttered to her, clearing his throat and glancing down to Wallum. He couldn't think anything profound or particularly notable, so he shrugged Granger's hand off of his shoulder and said, "What she said. -And Ms. Wallum, please refrain from using the word 'sexual.' You're fifteen, for Merlin's sake."

"Ignore him," Granger told her. "He might be young and handsome on the outside, but on the inside he's a shriveled up old man who just wants children to leave his stoop. -Fear of a word only increases the fear of the word itself. Say _sexual_ as properly as you can, and you're all set."

"Thanks, Professor Granger!" Wallum skipped off to join her friends, leaving Draco to turn his head and glare at his once childhood rival turned now educational rival.

"Ignore me? That's your advice? _Ignore_ me?"

"I'm only taking a page out of Professor L's playbook," she smirked at him, pressing a finger to his chest. "And he was right. It really is the only way to get through a day knowing you exist." Draco opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off as she walked away from him and approached the podium, waving at him to follow. With a roll of the eyes, he did. When he was by her side, she levitated the box over to them and conjured up a stool to rest it on. "Thank you all so, so much for your questions! While we won't be able to get through every single one, Professor Malfoy and I will be diligent in answering all other questions in a pamphlet we will give out our next session."

"We will?" Draco lulled, making the children laugh. Granger stepped on his foot underneath the podium. "Oof!"

"Question number one!" She reached over to the box, removed the top, and plucked out a folded slip. She read the note quietly to herself, the corners of her lips pulling up in a humorous grin. "I think Professor Malfoy should take this one. Professor?"

Draco rolled his eyes and snatched up the paper from her. His eyes went wide as saucers as he read it to himself. ' _Who invented sex_?' He coughed, narrowed his eyes, muttered, "Is this a joke?" And then squared his shoulders as he addressed the class. "Who invented… sex." He said the last word with a monotone drawl that reminded himself of Professor Snape. The Hall lit up with sniggers, laughs, and hoots. Oh yes. This first question was a doozy. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I suppose that would depend on your Theology… It's a… primal instinct… so…" The class withered into tittering giggles.

Granger stepped up closer to him and butted in when she so clearly wasn't invited. Not that he was complaining. He was drowning in embarrassment. "I would say that the first beings to procreate through reproduction instead of asexual reproduction invented it."

Draco crumbled up the paper and threw it over his shoulder. Damn. Her answer was so much more intelligent than his. "Alright, Professor. Another." He snapped his fingers, and Granger found another one from the bottom of the box. Draco snatched it from her and smirked. " _Why do people have sex when it's so complicated_?" The class didn't find it amusing the way he did, and anxious eyes stared up at him as pink tinted their cheeks. "Well, that's an easy one. Because humans don't think when they decide to become intimate. It isn't until after that they feel any sort of complications such as emotions and whatnot."

"That's quite nice, Professor Malfoy," Said Granger, "But I believe the asker was inquiring about the act itself?"

Double damn! Of course they were. Of course they bloody well were… fuck.

Granger continued. "Sex isn't as complicated as one might think. But Professor Malfoy does bring up a valid point -that unless one would like heartbreak and questions, he or she should really take into account their actions beforehand and assess the situation accordingly. To expect celibacy from each and every one of you until you marry is unrealistic and a bit pretentious. You are teenagers learning to explore your own bodies. So, if you do decide to take that next step, remember to do it in good conscience with someone you care about."

"Or at least can stand to stomach in the morning," Draco muttered to her under his breath. Much to his surprise, she laughed. It made his lips turn upwards.

She picked up a new slip of paper and blinked a few times. " _What do you do when you have an erection and the teacher calls you up to the board_?" The entire class lit up in a roar of laughter, save but for a few stragglers who didn't find it amusing one bit. Draco imagined that those blokes were probably the boner-wielding brats themselves who got a chubby for Granger. Was it getting warm in here? He tugged on the collar of his robes; they were suddenly too tight and very itchy. "Well," said Granger, "I suppose you could think about something very unpleasant. Professor Malfoy seems to do the trick for myself." The entire room lit up in a sea of sniggers. Granger laughed with them, gathered her wits, and said, "You are never to repeat that outside of this Hall, do you understand? -And it's perfectly normal for a teenage body to go through hormonal changes, which would elicit erections from even the most innocent of individuals. Professor Malfoy, do you have anything to add?"

He jutted out his chin, narrowed his eyes, and said, "If you should find yourself in a situation such as the one in question, it's always an acceptable to politely decline or excuse yourself until you feel more yourself."

He watched Granger's brown eyes search his own, giving him a 'really, that's what you have?' look. He leered his gaze over to the box and encouraged her to pluck out a new one. If there was one time where Draco Malfoy wished he was in Azkaban, it would be right now. At least Azkaban didn't force you to answer ridiculous questions to an entire age group you would see tomorrow morning. She handed him the slip and he unfolded it. "Is it acceptable… ac… acceptable…" His voice faltered as he was taken aback by the lack of tact with this question. Not wanting to be outdone by Granger, he forced down his pride and started again. " _Is it acceptable to masturbate? Or is it bad_?" He exchanged glances with Professor Granger and told her with a nod that he had this. "Choosing to engage in sexual acts with yourself is as normal as trying on new clothes. Find something you like and tuck it away for later use."

"That was… quite… insightful, Professor Malfoy."

"Anything you'd like to add, Professor Granger?"

She shook her head, smiling as if she were quite impressed with his response. "I think you've covered it." The next question was just as forward as the last. " _Why are there flavored condoms_?" Condoms… he had heard her say this word before, the night that she had berated him for simply pointing out her book was full of ridiculous notions and nonsense. He supposed he should eventually find out what it was. Tucking a mental note for later in the back of his mind, he waited patiently for her response. "Well… if you've ever had a dentist's glove in your mouth, you would know the taste of latex isn't a very intriguing one. And since a condom is usually made of latex, a flavored condom acts as a barrier between the mouth and genitals during oral sex to prevent sexually transmitted diseases." Wait… he just heard the words 'oral sex' right? _Oral sex_? Condoms served a purpose with _oral sex_? Maybe he really should look into these 'condoms'. Purely for academic reasons, of course…

He found her eyes staring up at him as she presented him with a new slip. He couldn't help but think that he would thoroughly enjoy whatever a condom was if it meant her pretty pink lips could be wrapped tightly around his cock. -Fuck. Stop it. All this sexual talk was getting him flustered. Did no one else think it was _extremely_ hot in here? Had Granger hexed him with a heating spell of her own? Or was that just the way she was looking at him?

He scanned his eyes over the question on the card, relieved when her gaze fell from his own. The words fell out of his mouth before he realized what they said. " _Is sex like in the pornographic movies I found on the internet_?" He scowled. "What the bloody Hell is an internet?"

"Language, Professor Malfoy," Granger chastised. "And to answer the question, sex can be very romantic or destructive, depending on the situation and personal preferences. Pornographic videos put an expectation of perfection in the mind. Not everyone is built a certain way, and you should never degrade yourself to comparing your bodies or your preferences to something of fiction."

A boy with sandy colored hair in Hufflepuff robes shot his hand up into the air. Draco called on him. "Yes, Hough?"

"What does Professor Granger mean by personal preferences?"

Draco couldn't help but wonder as he glanced over at her what her personal preferences might be. Was she the goody two shoes who only enjoyed a romp in between the sheets on scheduled evenings after penciling in fifteen minutes of foreplay like the aggravating perfectionist she was? Or… was she a naughty school girl underneath that brazen exterior who would enjoy doing anything to a man as long as she could get that passing grade? Was she a submissive little minx? A dominatrix? Asexual?

"Personal preferences are what you enjoy," she answered Rodney Hough, "The sort of actions that get your potion brewing, so to speak. There are some people who prefer courting for months, or even years, before ever becoming intimate with someone. There are others who enjoy exploring their bodies by themselves, or in the company of individuals with… extreme tastes. But I'm getting off of subject, and that is far too much information for today. Another question, shall we?"

* * *

The sixth years weren't much better.

"Is it alright to try on condoms to make sure they're the right size?"  
 _They have a size?_ Draco thought. He really needed to do his research.  
"You most certainly should," Granger answered, "You can buy individuals and try them on in privacy."

* * *

Perhaps the fourth years would apply their child-like innocence.

"What does semen taste like?"  
Like he didn't much know what the answer was, because he was a man who hadn't ever considered to ask it.  
"The taste varies from individual to individual. But imagine, if you will, egg whites that have been dashed with a bit of salt. Anything more than that, and the man should definitely be seen by a healer immediately." Of course she'd have the answer. Wait, did that mean that she's tasted it? That would mean she'd have to have performed oral sex… that 'flavored condom' was sounding more and more interesting by the moment.

"Can I get pregnant from sharing a bathroom with a boy?"  
It was Draco's turn to answer. "The only way to become pregnant is through variations of sexual acts. But, should you ever concern yourself with these worries, there are potions to prevent pregnancies."  
"Yes," Granger interjected, "But if not brewed the correct way could lead to unplanned pregnancies and a bundle full of dirty diapers." The classroom paled.  
"Abstinence is the best course of action, in any case," Draco added.  
"What's abstinence?" Shouted a boy from the back. Draco and Granger exchanged glances, fighting what they knew they were both thinking: a bloody pain in the ass, that's what it was.  
"It's refraining from sexual activities," said Granger, shifting on her feet as if she were lost in thought. Was she just as sexually pent up as he was? Not towards him, of course, but in general?

* * *

The seventh years were the worst of the bunch.

"What do I do if I think I'm pregnant?"  
Draco scowled. "You should see Madam Pomfrey at once. And question your life choices."  
"Professor Malfoy!" Gasped Granger, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. "Ignore Professor Malfoy's last comment. We should all be so prude."  
"Perhaps you should," he sneered.

"What are different variations of foreplay?"  
Foreplay. Merlin, Draco hadn't thought about foreplay in such a very long time. But now that he thought about it, he could probably go into excruciating details of all of the tiny subtleties that foreplay could elicit from a woman who was wriggling beneath you… perhaps, it was best if Granger took this one.  
"Foreplay ranges from physical stimulations such as kissing and the like," she said, "to words or actions. It can range anywhere from ten seconds to hours, and it occurs as anything that enhances sexual arousal."  
Like the way Granger's breasts teased him in that shirt on Tuesday night? Did that count? Merlin, he was going to need to buy less thick robes. It was certainly too hot in here.

"Describe sexual tension," Draco read out loud to the class. His eyes scanned the room of barely legal adults and shifted his glance over to Granger. She had a hint of pink on the top of her cheeks, and as soon as her eyes met his she glances quickly away. Heh. This might be easier than he thought. "Sexual tension is an interaction between two individuals that are sexually attracted to one another, but," he tried to keep his eyes forward instead of his instinct to bore his eyes into Granger's as he spoke, "the consummation is postponed or perhaps never happens at all."

When the class had ended and the students filtered out, Draco made it a point to slip out of the room without her notice, thinking to himself that he most certainly needed a cold shower and an entire arsenal of Playwitch magazines to get him through the weekend.


	4. A Story

**I am sorry if there are any spelling/grammar errors. It's late, and I haven't fully checked everything. But I will in the morning. Thanks for the love! Sending mine back in waves.  
A.**

* * *

 **"Hallelujah" by Panic! At The Disco**

* * *

Saturday came at a dismally slow pace at the end of the week, but when it did Hermione was filled with relief. A month had come and gone since this new rivalry between Malfoy and her had begun. Each week held a new class, and finally all of the questions were answered. It had been a tad awkward sitting across from him last night, sifting through the remaining questions and jotting down answers to the best of their ability. Forcing themselves to sit together in the cramped space of her dormitory had proved to be difficult for both of them. Malfoy had been particularly foul, pointing out that the room matched her personality to a T (stuffy and not particularly anything to look at). After half a night of agitated quips and looks that could kill, she had kicked him out and told him that he was the rudest man she had ever met in her life.

Needless to say, Saturday would need to be a phenomenal day to make up for last night. It was the annual Hogsmeade trip for the third years and up, but she wouldn't be joining them. Instead, Hermione planned on finding a quiet place in the Library to sort out her ever growing lustful thoughts of the insufferable Hogwarts Potions Professor. During the days they didn't share a classroom together, it was easy to forget he existed outside of breakfast and dinner (she took her lunches into her classroom to avoid seeing him three times a day). Neville kept her busy with conversations at the Professors' table, so at least that was something.

She found herself instead roaming through the halls, reminiscing on nostalgia and broken memories. When she arrived at a changing staircase that would lead up to the old Gryffindor Dorms, she heard a prideful cough as if to say 'look over here'; she turned her head over her shoulder to find Professor Malfoy, dressed in a stuffy yet simple button up and vest combo about ten feet behind her. "How long have you been stalking me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh. Not long." He grinned. "But I had to wonder what such a busy Professor such as yourself did on her time off? And then I thought, 'surely she couldn't be grading papers all day.' And _then_ I thought, 'well, surely she could. This is Granger.' And then I thought-"

"-You'd stalk me." She finished him, turning on her heel.

Malfoy shrugged. "Following isn't stalking. Stalking means I made a conscience effort to-"

"Follow. It's synonymous with stalking."

"Do stop interrupting me."

"Or what?" She raised a cool eyebrow and took a step up one of the changing staircases just as it was about to pull away. It veered off and away from Malfoy, but that didn't stop either of them from glaring at each other as it landed up near a balcony that led down a small hall. Hermione waited patiently for the next staircase she would need to get to as Malfoy stepped onto a nearby staircase and let it take him up to her balcony. He arrived with a thick smile on his face, triumphant. "Go away."

"No." He tucked his hands behind his back and waited with her for a new staircase.

"Why not?"

"Am I annoying you?"

"Thoroughly."

"Then you have your answer."

"Arrrgh!" She seethed out, aggravated, as her fists turned to balls. "Why must you be such a twit?"

"Ooh, speaking of twits, how is Twatter doing?"

She blinked at him. Even though it was a highly insulting nickname, she had to give him credit. It was creative. "If you're referring to Harry, he's doing quite well, actually. He's a successful Auror. Probably makes loads more money than you."

Draco -er, Malfoy snorted a laugh. "What do I care about money? I'm rich, remember?"

"Yes. I quite remember." A new staircase arrived, and Hermione stepped onto the bottom step. Malfoy followed in her footsteps, but as the stairs made to move off she stepped back, leaving him alone on the staircase to follow its journey across the hall. He spun around, realizing his mistake, and narrowed his eyes as she called out to him, "So it is quite obvious you don't do this for the money! Why do you do it then?"

"Do what?" He sneered.

"Teach!"

His staircase arrived at a lower level adjacent to her own balcony. As he stepped off, he shrugged and put his hands up theatrically. "I enjoy Potions. Being somewhere where I get paid to do my hobby just seems practical. Even if I have to put up with insufferable brats."

"Don't play coy. We both know you love them all."

"Yeah? Says who."

"You know every single one of their names by heart."

"Well of course I do. It's my job."

"And you're hard on them. But I get the feeling it's because you don't want to see them fail."

"Of course I don't. The Professor with the highest test scores at the end of the year gets a bonus."

"You said it yourself -you're not in it for the money."

"Hmph." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "What about you? Why _are_ you here?"

"I've told you. Headmistress McGonagall-"

"-Yes, yes. But before all that. The students tell me you were a Healer before this. But last I'd heard, you were making it as some big time legal-council for magical creatures' rights."

Hermione had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from laughing as she stepped onto the stairs and allowed them to take her towards the blonde. He looked surprised when she stepped off next to him, arms tucked behind her hips, only a foot away from him. "Yes. I did all that. But I decided a change of scenery was best."

"Yeah?" He quirked up an eyebrow. "Well… me too."

She turned her eyes away from him momentarily, processing his words. She knew what she had meant by a change of scenery; it was a way of escaping the inevitable awkwardness of seeing an ex-lover every day for the rest of her career. She was very curious to know what Malfoy meant. So she asked him. "I feel a story coming on!"

"No you don't," he shut her down, stepping off to another set of stairs to escape her. She followed him, jumping across the threshold at the last moment. The back of her left heel hit the end of the stairs, toddling her off balance as the staircase swung sideways. Her eyes went wide as she felt herself falling back—firm hands reached out and snatched her by the wrist, tugging her forward and smack dab into the chest of their owner. Malfoy's frame was harder than what she would have imagined, and it knocked the wind out of her as she fell into his arms, face smacking against his sternum. She took a moment to gain her barring, eyes trailing as slowly as possible up his chest, his neck (which was adorably speckled with white-blonde stubble, she noticed), his chin (which also held that sexy stubble) and finally all the way up to his silver-flecked eyes as they bore down on her with an unhospitable glare.

"Hi," she managed to squeak out.

He cleared his throat, hands still wrapped around the wrist that he had grabbed on to as to keep her from falling. "Hello."

Hermione noted, with a quick inhale of nervous breath, that not only did Draco Malfoy wear morning stubble well, but he also _smelled_ nice. Of course, two years of only dreaming of being within intimate space with a man that she didn't think of as a brother (like Harry) could have had a hand in the way her body reacted as she melted into the scents of rosewood and parchment. She never really understood why the smell of crisp parchment got her going, but it did. Had he been grading papers all night? Had he worked into the early hours of the morning? Did he have a good wank with himself to keep from falling asleep? What would Draco Malfoy fantasize about?

"Ahem. Granger. You can get off of me now."

Oh. Right. She was still leaned on him. Drats. She wasn't entirely sure she could pull away. But she forced herself to, pushing off of him to stand straight. Her hair went every which way, and when he released her wrist she threw her hands up to her hair to settle it. "Right. So… I believe you were going to tell me a story."

"You ever wonder why people don't like you?"

"Not really."

"This. Right here. No means no, Professor." He gave her a quick smirk that made her knees shake (only a little).

"You know, you might find yourself with less enemies and more friends if you did open up a bit more," she offered. "I'll start, if it makes you feel more comfortable." He did nothing but stare at her with a blank expression, so she continued. "I left the Ministry because seeing my ex-boyfriend every day hurt too much to do it anymore."

Malfoy blinked twice and then turned his head down to the staircase. It had landed moments ago, but they stayed on until it shifted again. "So you and Weasley didn't work out?"

"How did you know it was Ron?"

"Oh please, Granger. Who else would date you?" He grinned at his quip, blocking her hand as it came up to sock him in the shoulder. His long fingers (pianist fingers, much like the faceless man in Hermione's fantasies) cradled her fist like a vice. He released her hand after a moment and shrugged. "Also, your relationship was the talk of the papers for weeks after the War ended."

Hermione felt her stomach pull slightly. Were they really having conversations concerning the War? When had things taken such an intimate turn? "Oh." It was all she could say until he spoke again.

"I guess I have a story behind my arrival here as well." His smile this time wasn't full of arrogance; it was pensive. "Follow me?" He stepped off of the staircase and landed in front of the hallway leading towards the Gryffindor dorms. Hermione wondered if he somehow knew this was where she was headed all along as she followed him down the walls of paintings. Some of them waved to her, remembering her bright young mind, while others turned their eyes elsewhere at seeing Professor Malfoy. "I started here about three years ago… it was… taxing, to live with my family anymore."

"You were living with your family? Still?"

"That's how it's done with pureblood families," he replied idly, stopping to observe a Gryffindor tapestry. "Until we marry, we don't veer far from our roots." He was silent for a time. "I got tired of my parents trying to barter me off to this pureblood witch or that. A bunch of twittering girls with sawdust in their heads and babies on the brain."

Hermione was nearly rendered speechless at his candidness, and simply responded, "Yes, that would make anyone flee to the outskirts of Scotland and hide behind the shackles of education."

He smirked, eyes still trained on the banner. "Yes. Quite."

They stood there like that, staring at the tapestry in all of its normal wonder, not saying much of anything. Hermione felt the peace crash into her like an ocean wave; it was refreshing. All of this bickering had taken its toll on her soul. This… this was pleasant. Even if it was with Malfoy.

"Hermione?" Came a soft, masculine voice from down the hall. She and Draco -no, Malfoy. Malfoy, Hermione. Anyways, she and the blonde Slytherin alumni turned their gaze to Neville Longbottom, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. "Hey, thought that was you." Neville's eyes trailed up to the smug looking Malfoy and scrunched his lips together. "Professor Malfoy."

"Professor _Long_ bottom."

"Oh, really now, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's just childish."

"We are constantly surrounded by children," he said to her, "How do you expect them not to rub off on us sooner or later?"

"You've always been this way," Neville pointed out.

"Whatever. No one asked your opinion." Malfoy turned to walk away. Hermione called out to him.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes." He smirked to her. "I _know_ just how much you'll miss me." His words were sarcastic, but his wink was not. "Stalk you soon?" He left them, strutting down the hall with his arrogant Malfoy head held high.

"Do I even want to know?" asked Neville.

Hermione let out a laugh. "I would first have to figure out what happened myself to be able to tell you anything. -Neville?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a bloke."

"Yes." He paled ever so slightly. "I am."

"Do you think I'm pretty?" She wasn't sure what possessed her to ask, but after bringing up the subject of Ron, it had sparked an insecurity in her. She had been too vulnerable with Malfoy she soon realized.

The corners of Neville's eyes squinted, and his ears flushed very pink. "Of course I do, Hermione. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." She glanced back up at the tapestry again, really admiring it for the first time this morning. Hues of reds and golds glistened back at her. "Do you ever seen Ron?"

"From time to time," he answered honestly. "He still asks about you sometimes."

"Does he?"

"Don't you think you should hear him out?"

"There's nothing to hear out anymore." She felt her cheeks warm. "We're both grown adults who made a choice. And I'm living by my choice. So should he." She reached up and patted Neville on the cheek. "Thanks for trying, though. You're a really good friend."

"Yeah." Neville smiled. "Friend."

She withdrew her hand, not sure if she misread the way he grinned back at her, or if Neville Longbottom was holding a metaphoric candle for her. Quickly, she made up an excuse that she had forgotten to pick up a book in the library and skittered quickly away. No, there was no way Neville had a crush on her. She was simply Hermione Granger, the ever loving bookworm with frizzy hair and… was she though?

She stepped back into the hall with the changing staircases, relieved to be alone again. Too bad it would be short lived by the evening.

* * *

Draco paced his dormitory, frustrated and irritated both at the same time. And no, they were most certainly not the same thing. His irritation stemmed from being so buddy-buddy with Professor Granger. He didn't know why holding her in his arms briefly had set afire a want for kindred conversation with her. She was just the stupid, annoying, book loving, frizzy haired mess she always had been. But was she though? She seemed… different, somehow. And he didn't know why he even cared to notice it.

Maybe it was because when she had been pressed so tight up against him, he could swore he could have smelled the pheromones in the air between them. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking, but he nearly got the impression that Granger wanted him. Like… _wanted_ him. Images scurried through his mind of her knocking on his door right now, shoving him down on the bed, and ripping apart his clothing as she whipped his cock out into the cool air to drop her head between his legs and-

"Fuck." He took a seat on his bed and fidgeted with his hands. This mild infatuation with fantasy-Granger was taking a turn for the obsession. He needed some kind of physical release soon, and his hand just wasn't cutting it these days. Draco wondered what she would do if he came up to her room and slipped into bed with her. He could imagine himself slipping his hand between those athletic legs and caressing her thighs before- before _what_? Just what did he think was going to happen? That she'd just willingly let him fool around with her for no other reason than he was pent up and curious? Fat chance. But perhaps she was curious too? Years of mocking her certainly hadn't helped their rapport, but it did add a bit of sexual tension between them. He wondered when the last time was that anyone had gotten her off besides herself. Did her and Weasley still have little trysts in the middle of the night? Or had that ship sailed along with their relationship? Did she have gentlemen callers? Was she as abstained from sex as he had been for what seemed like forever? When was the last time he had been laid? That saucy little minx from the bar had been… well, pushing on a year, at least. And that had been such awful sex. Draco didn't much enjoy it when women would lay there like dead fish. Was Granger a dead fish? Or was she feisty? Did she like to bounce up and down while riding a man, or did she like to be ridden? "Fuck," he said again.

Just because Draco Malfoy didn't like to _talk_ about sex didn't mean he didn't like to _think_ about it. And his curiosity was getting the best of him. Maybe it really did kill the cat, so to speak.

So he did what any sexually charged, hormonal man in a desperate need to see a woman did; he made up a terrible excuse to see her.

* * *

A knock came to Hermione's door a little after eleven at night, dragging her eyes away from her book and over to the door. She was getting to the point that she just about suspected Malfoy every time she heard a knock. Even if it was just a House Elf coming to fluff the pillows, or even if it was just Neville coming to give her a cup of tea before bed. But this time, at this hour, she knew. She scrambled out of bed, nearly falling out of it as she fumbled out of her burrito blanket cocoon. Hermione jumped to slip her pajama pants back on (it had been rather stuffy this evening in her room) and she checked herself in the mirror, making sure that her nipples couldn't be seen under her black silk camisole she had decided to wear to bed because, well, sometimes a woman just needed to feel pretty. Even if it was by herself. Alone. With her hand.

She opened the door with a lazy swing, not surprised at all when she came face to face with Professor Malfoy. What did surprise her, however, was the way he was panting breathlessly, as if he had climbed her staircase at a run. "Professor?"

"Oh, to Hell with the formalities, Granger," he snapped at her, waving his arm around as he struggled to catch his breath. His face was already rather pink, but when he said his next words, its hue upped the ante to a brilliant shade of scarlet. "What exactly is a _condom_?"

Hermione burst out laughing. She had to reach out to grip the doorframe just to stop herself from doubling over in a fit of giggles. "Did you really just climb all those stairs to ask me that?"

He narrowed his eyes, his chin set. "Yes."

Her laughter died away. "Oh. I see." Nervously, she fiddled with a curl of her hair and motioned to her room. "Come in."

Malfoy stepped into her room and stood quietly in the center. Hermione rolled her eyes, placed her hands on his shoulders, and ushered him to the bed. "Sit down. I won't bite _." Not unless you want me to. Oh. Bad Hermione. Simply bad._

"Well, that's disappointing," he chided, avoiding her eyes and flashing a nervous smirk. Hermione attempted to ignore the flirtatious taunt as best she could (not even trying to think about what he could have possibly meant, because let's face it, that was just too much to think about in one sitting) while going over to her briefcase and rummaging through till she pulled out a little foil square. "What's that?"

"It's a condom." She said, noting the redness crawling up his neck as well.

"That's a condom?" He scoffed. "That's not what I expected."

"Well, the condom is inside the foil, actually." She carefully approached him like he was a horse about to spook and sat down next to him on her bed. It wasn't as terrible as she imagined, having Draco Malfoy in her bed. Of course, when she had imagined it, there were less clothes involved. "Do you know what a condom is for?"

Draco glanced down at the foil wrapper, up to her eyes, and then tore his gaze away while shaking his head.

"It's to prevent pregnancies. And sexually transmitted diseases." She was so clinical with her answers, but that's all she knew how to do. The words 'you stick it on your cock so that you don't come inside of a woman' just weren't words that she could utter. Not even to someone as rude as Malfoy. "You, erm, slip it on a penis when its erect. It's like a sheath."

Draco smirked, a bit of the red dying away in his face. "Takes the term sword play to a new level."

Hermione giggled, setting her hand down on the side of the bed and accidently brushing her fingers against his. She moved away quickly, settling her hands on her knees, condom still tucked between the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "You came all this way to ask me about a condom?"

"I… had to know," he replied lamely. "So that flavored condom thing you were talking about in class… that's a real thing?"

"Quite real."

"Is that one a…?"

"No. This one's just a normal one. I have flavored ones in my bag as well, though."

He cracked a smile. "Look at you, you saucy witch."

She laughed and shoved him in the arm. "It's not saucy! It's practical. I teach children about safer ways to approach their bodies. I better have all of my artillery loaded and ready to go."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing over to her bag. "Oh yeah?" He stood up and approached the bag. Hermione jumped up playfully between him and her desk, where the bag resided, and put a hand to his chest.

"I distinctly recall you telling me that what I teach is filthy, Professor Malfoy. Now you want to know more about it?"

"I'm just curious," he shrugged, slipping his fingers around her wrist as she pressed firmer against his sternum. "Why? You have something in there you don't want me to see?"

"Considering you're one of the most prude men I've ever met-"

"-I told you," he interrupted her, "I'm not a prude." He jerked her closer, so that she was once again up against him and in his personal space. But this time, it hadn't been out of a want for her safety. This time… this time was much different. Hermione noticed his blown pupils and insatiable smirk as he grazed his eyes over her lips while licking his own. There was a hint of lust that shimmered over his skin like a heat wave. And he was giving her those 'fuck-me-Professor' eyes that the boys in class did. _So now what will you do?_ She wondered.

"So.. there are flavored condoms in that bag of yours?" His voice dripped with a hint of desperation.

"Yes." Her voice grew quiet. "But I thought you said you thought my curriculum was inappropriate."

He breathed heavily, scowling to himself before releasing her and backing away. "That's… because it is." If she didn't know any better, she thought that he might be forcing those words from his lips without believing them.

"I could show you!" The words fell out of her mouth before she could retract them. They just sort of hung in the air for a moment, the tension so thick between them it was like a fog. A frustrating, enormous fog that engulfed the entire room. Until he spoke.

"Yeah. Alright." He nodded, flexing his hands. "Show me."


	5. A Lesson

**Special shout out to WayMay for giving a few funny suggestions as she was proofing. 3 This chapter has a lemon warning. So... you've been warned?**  
 **A.**

* * *

 **-"Addiction" Kanye West (I know, I know, ugh Kanye, but the song fits.)**

* * *

Hermione blinked once. Surely, she had heard him wrong. But no. She hadn't. He had said it. He had said what they both had been thinking.

"A-Alright," she whispered, backing up and turning to her bag before her fear got the best of her. Where was it? Oh Lord, she was usually so good at organizing, but now her brain was filling up with that tension-filled-fog and -oh there it was! She snatched up the purple colored foil square and tried to control her breathing as she turned around to face him. Malfoy stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure of what to do or what she wanted him to do.

* * *

Draco stared heavily at Granger, his heart palpitations getting the best of him as his hands turned clammy with nervousness. What did she mean, exactly, when she said she'd show him? Did she mean in the clinical sense? Or the sexy sense? Was she actually going to do it?

"I… I um… sit on the bed," she told him, pointing to it. Draco didn't want to ruin his chances, so he did as he was told, quickly sitting back down on the mattress as it squeaked beneath him. Her room was so quiet. Too quiet. What Draco Malfoy would have given just to hear even a bit of shouting from the students in the hallway as they broke curfew. But, alas, no thrifty teenagers had decided to roam the halls this evening. He'd settle for a ghost popping in right now just to burst this bubble of tension. But then again, if she _were_ to actually—

"What's that?" Draco asked after she had rummaged through her bag once again and brought out something long and phallic. He could feel the tug in his middle as he stared at what appeared to be a blue colored, penis shaped weapon of some sort. Why would she need that? What was she going to do with it? Horrible images ran through his head as he panicked. He went to stand, but she gave him a hardened glare and he sat back down again. "Look, Granger, I don't know what all this is but-"

"It's an artificial penis," she said simply. Any other time he was sure she would have laughed at him, but something about the atmosphere left her serious. "If you want me to show you how a condom works, I'll need to demonstrate."

So this is what she had meant. Hmm. It wasn't what he had expected, but he'd take what he could get. If his younger self could see him now, alone, sitting on Hermione Granger's bed as she held a phallus and a condom in her hands… well, his younger self just might have a heart attack and die of mortification. But Draco wasn't his cry-baby self any longer. He was a man. A man with needs. And right now, he needed to know what a condom did and he _needed_ her to show him.

She approached him and sat down next to him, brushing elbows. Draco welcomed the touch while his cheeks flooded with warmth. Granger didn't say much of anything, but she did shove the blue phallus into his hands, which made his eyes widen and all of the blood leave his face. "What are you doing?"

"You want me to show you, don't you?" She said quietly, mouth parted ever so slightly as if she were afraid to open it all the way. What did she think he was going to do? Shove his cock down her throat? It wasn't even outside of his pants, for Merlin's sake. "So I need you to hold the… the example. So that I can put the condom on."

"What do _normal_ people call this?" He asked, feeling silly holding the blue artificial penis. He knew that wasn't what it was called in casual conversation. It couldn't be. No one would be able to keep a straight face. He wiggled it around a bit.

"A… a dildo." She blushed violently, though she kept her eyes on his. Draco had never noticed that there were hints of amber in the flecks of her brown irises. How peculiar.

"Dildo." He repeated the word back to her. "Hmm. I suppose that's a better name than 'artificial penis.' You just have this in your bag?"

"It's for demonstrations."

"What exactly are you going to be demonstrating to these children?" he chided, giving a smirk. It alleviated some of the tension. Hermi-no, Granger. Granger, damn it. Granger gave a soft sigh followed by a string of giggles. He wasn't sure how to react, so he did the thing his father always used to do and scowled with an inquisitive glare. "What's so funny?"

"Just… you know… I didn't think we'd ever be doing this, you know?" She laughed again, this time into her hand. "We're sitting on my bed and you're holding a dildo and…" Her laughter picked up until she was rolling forward, leaning her head on his shoulder. Draco couldn't help but find himself smiling as well, until soon he found himself sniggering behind his own hand. "See?" she laughed with him. "It's so funny!"

"It sort of is," he replied, trying to tense his face to keep from laughing, but it wasn't working. Soon they both were barreled over in hysterics. Draco felt her hand grab his shoulder as she threw her head back, free and proud and full of laughter. In a split moment, he thought her beautiful. But that thought quickly was pushed back deep into the mental box where he stored all of his secret, inappropriate thoughts. She couldn't be beautiful. She was Granger. Just Granger. Just… beautiful. "Alright," he told her, willing his laughter away. "Let's get on with this, then."

"Right…aha…ahahaaha… oh wow, I… I ahah… I can't seem to stop… hmmahaha… laughing!" She buried her face into his shoulder in an attempt to stifle herself. The warmth of her skin and breath as she laughed against the fabric of his sleeve made his body react in carnal ways. He had to stop himself from just shoving her down onto the bed and biting at any scrap of skin he could. She probably didn't like biting… but _maybe_ she did. There was a sinking feeling in his gut as he realized he'd never get the opportunity to find out. He watched her calm herself down to a few straggled giggles as she brought her face up and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Sorry." She smiled at him. "This is just so odd."

"Tell me about it," he said, embarrassed at the way his voice dropped lower with gravely undertones. He glanced down at her lips for the second time this evening as he wondered what she would taste like if he just dipped his mouth down onto hers. Would she taste like toothpaste? Or cinnamon? Or sin? This was most definitely a sin, according to his Father; lusting over muggleborns was something forbidden and deemed highly inappropriate. It's probably what made him want her even more. Forbidden fruit, just ripe for the picking. And it was the serpent to tempt Eve, was it not? That's what he had learned in his Theology studies.

"Shall we?" she asked him.

He smirked, enjoying the closeness of her face in proximity to his. "Waiting on you."

She pried her face off of his shoulder and glanced down to the 'dildo' in his hands. "Right. Um… you'll have to hold it… upright… you know. Like it was your own erection." She saw the blush crawl back up her face as she realized at how forward she sounded. For once, Draco didn't blush with her. Probably because all of the blood had traveled long since down south and resided inside of his own pulsing cock that thankfully was hidden beneath his loose fitting trousers. He didn't know what he would do if she discovered just how hard and ready he was for the opportunity to ravish her. Not that she would let him. But one could dream, couldn't he?

He did as he was told, holding the dildo upright, perching it provocatively in his lap as he gave a flirtatious smirk. He noticed her scowl, but she ignored whatever she wanted to say about his suggestive placement and ripped at the foil wrapper -with her teeth. Oh shit. Could she be more provocative? She tore the edge completely off, and Draco watched as she revealed a small, latex ring with stretched with rubber in the center. "Why is it purple?" He asked.

"Blueberry flavored," she explained, catching his gaze for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. She placed the rubber ring around the head of the dildo, saying, "It's very important that the bubble at the tip faces up, you see. So it can roll down like so…" Her slender fingers slipped the latex down the shaft, rolling it like she was stroking the phallic toy. "You can always put a bit of lubrication inside to make it more comfortable. And you simply roll it down to the base of… of the shaft…" Her hands gripped the condom-sheathed dildo in such a provocative way that Draco had to concentrate all of his efforts not to come. He'd never been so envious of a demonstrative piece of equipment in all of his life. "And that's about it, until the… job is done." Her eyes flickered up to his.

Draco found himself drawing his face closer to hers, though he imagined it looked a bit silly as he sat there with a blue rubber dildo gripped tight in his hand. His breathing was shallow as he glanced down at the dildo and then back up to her. "Does it… feel different?"

"I imagine it does. But not that much." She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "Some men say that it takes them longer to climax when they wear one. And for some men, I'd say that's a good thing."

Draco found himself chuckling, though he remained silent with his words. He wasn't sure where to go from here, and he didn't want to muck it all up by saying something defensive or perhaps cruel. That's just how his brain worked when he didn't know where he stood with someone. He finally settled on a quip not aimed at her. "Well then… I suppose I'd hold out all night." He didn't miss the twitch in the corner of her lip as she flushed pink.

"You're a confident one," she whispered, eyes trailing around his face before settling them on his lips. She leaned forward for just a moment, caught herself from doing whatever the Hell she was thinking of doing, and she pulled away from him, eyes forward to the floor. Draco scolded himself. Had he taken it too far? Could he take it too far? He'd never worried about it before.

And why should he now? He scolded himself. He was Draco Malfoy, for crying out loud! His entire day was made when he could make Granger feel uncomfortable. Why should he stop on her account? "So, when a woman performs oral sex on a man with a condom on, is there a special technique?"

She brought her eyes back up to his, obviously taken aback by his forwardness. "I… I um… no, not really. It's pretty much the same thing, you know?" No, actually, he didn't. Not that he hadn't _wanted_ to. Not that he hadn't fantasized about a woman's lips slipping around his shaft. It was just that he hadn't found anyone adventurous enough to do it. And really, it wasn't even that adventurous. Pureblood women just were that prude. They didn't like the idea of oral reciprocation, even when it was given. Draco never really understood it.

Granger read something in his expression, and he turned his head quickly away, eyes widening. Shit. She hadn't figured out that he had never been orally stimulated, had she? Well, it wasn't like he was a bloody virgin. Far from it.

"Oh." She said quietly. "Oh. You… you've never… I-I mean… no one's ever…?"

"No," he replied quickly, eyes boring straight into her dresser across the room. Maybe if he stared hard enough it would catch fire and give him an excuse to change the subject. "I… I've never found someone who wanted to." He could feel his cheeks reddening. "I don't know why I told you that." He blinked, horrified. "I should go." He made to stand, but she grabbed at his arm and yanked him back down. He shot her a glare and said, "What the bloody Hell do you think you're-?"

"It's alright," she told him. "You shouldn't feel embarrassed."

"I'm not," he said curtly. He stared into her eyes for a time. "Have you ever… you know… given?"

She smiled meekly, tucking her frizzy hair behind her ear. "Yes." She chewed on her lower lip. "But… never with a condom. Or a flavored one, at that." She slipped her hand down her neck, her breasts, and to his hand, which rested beside her on the bed. She gave it a light squeeze as if to reassure him she wasn't judging him. Strange sensations tickled his insides. Why was she staring at him that way? What did she want? "Have you… you know… given?"

He smirked at her. "Yup." He gave a confident yawn, rolling back on her bed and allowing his head to hit her fluffy comforter. It was easier to talk about it if he wasn't staring into her like she was the fucking sun. "Never had a complaint."

"Well, neither have I," she retorted crisply. Her hand was still on his. Draco, in that moment, felt rather daring. Should he dare take a risk to have it backfire in his face? Or should he stay perfectly still and hope that she'd come to him? Ha. Yeah. As if. She'd never initiate anything. He at least knew that much about her.

He tried to feel the situation out. "So. You've never actually tasted a flavored condom before?"

"Hmm?" She turned her head to him, breaking away from her inner thoughts. "Oh. Um. N-no. Not really. No."

"Well, which is it, Granger? Not really? Or no?"

"No."

He licked his upper lip, thinking. He let his eyes drown in the ceiling as he thought of a way to ask her. "Would you ever try it?"

She touched her lips together, pondering his question as if it were going to be on the next exam. He rolled his eyes, waiting. Finally, she answered him. "I suppose, if I found the right partner to try it with."

His heart sped in pace. "Yeah?" What could he say to her to entice her? "And what if you found him?"

She looked him square in the eyes, squinting as if confused. "What do you mean?" He rolled his eyes again, taking his chances. He picked up her hand that was in his and with a slow, careful motion dragged it over to his lap, up his thigh, and right over the prominent erection that pressed against the zipper of his pants. Her eyes went wide, and he thought she might jerk away for a split moment. But instead, she left her hand rested on his hard-on and said, "Oh." She glanced down at his zipper, biting at her lip, and then back up to him. "Oh," she said again. It was quite annoying. Draco could feel his patience wavering.

"Well?" He sneered quietly.

Granger stared into his silver eyes before settling on a set of small nods. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Yes!

She pulled her hand off of his lap, making Draco whimper in protest, until he saw her stand up and go back over to her bag. He glanced down to the dildo still clutched in his hands, tossed it over his shoulder back onto her pillow, and sat upright again. His heart was beating wildly. He was sure he had lost circulation to his toes, because all of the blood in his body was rushing to his cock as he waited for her to come back to him with another purple foil. Much to his surprise (and glee), she dropped down on her knees in front of him on the floor, resting a hand on each knee. He knew he should say something; a quip, a sneer, anything, but his mind couldn't think clearly. All that mattered was the sexually arousing Granger nestled between his legs as the word ' _yes_ ' rang in his head over and over again. He found enough of a mind to reach for the button of his pants, but Granger reached up and slapped his hand away. He scowled at her, confused. Why would she do such a thing?

"If this really is your… your first time," she whispered in a soft, sultry voice, staring into his eyes and making his skin tingly with anticipation. "You should get the full experience. It's… only fair."

Heh. Yeah. Fair. Sure, he'd go with that. He nodded quickly, not one to argue when there was sexual work to be done. She smiled and reached up to his chest, shoving him back until he rested on his elbows. What a controlling little Gryffindor she was, even in the bedroom. He rather enjoyed it. But a thought brewed in the crevices of his mind, and he sat himself upright once again, saying, "Wait. One thing first." He didn't know why he felt the need to do it; she hadn't offered anything romantically to him. Simply physical. Perhaps it was his pureblood 'old way' of thinking, but he couldn't allow her to do something so intimate without doing something first. Carefully, he leaned forward and slipped his hands under her jaw to cup her face. Her skin was warm to the touch, sending shivers down his spine as he leaned in even closer and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

Draco didn't know he could get any harder, but he found himself growing more aroused as he tasted chocolate and hints of toothpaste against the soft skin of her tongue. He hadn't even given her a choice on deepening the kiss; it just happened. She stiffened in his hands, searching out his mouth with her own tongue before melting into his touch and sending her hands flying into his hair. Draco groaned. It felt so good for someone to touch him this way. It had been too long. He soon realized that he would crave this when it was all said and done.

Hermione -he justified calling her that in his head, because, well, she was about to give him a blowjob and her lips _did_ taste rather nice- broke the kiss and shoved him backwards again, this time a bit more forceful. He scrambled up to his elbows and smirked at her. Did she really want him that bad?

"How long has it been since you've last been intimate with someone?" she asked him.

Well, that was a slight boner killer. "Really, Granger?"

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know. About a year? Why?"

She smirked. "To range how I should approach this. And to see if this was some sort of line you used."

"Why the bloody Hell would I use being an oral virgin as a line?"

"You'd be surprised." She reached for the button of his pants, and Draco fell silent. Nope. Never mind. He was still as erect as possible. He watched through lustful slits as Hermione leaned down and dragged the zipper down with her teeth. Oh, what a bloody brilliant way to do it. He felt himself twitch as she reached a hand over the elastic of his underwear, and with one firm tug pulled his pants and underwear towards her, freeing his cock. He gasped a small breath, watching her eyes trail over the length of his shaft. Pride swelled within him instantly; he knew he wasn't enormous, but he was blessed with a good length and sturdy girth. It felt good to prove it to her, somehow.

She glanced up at his eyes lustfully. "I'm going to put the condom on now."

"Okay," he replied, half disappointed she wouldn't just put her mouth on him right the bloody fuck now. But he sifted through his thoughts and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He heard the peel of the wrapper, felt the soft hands stroke him for the first time as she slipped the condom down the length of his shaft. He hissed out a sigh of breath, anxious and excited. He realized suddenly that he'd want to watch this. His eyes popped open and he tucked his head up just in time to see her mouth approach his cock and then -

Oh sweet baby dragons. The feeling was beyond compare. There was heat and warmth and moisture and the gentle caress of a tongue lapping at the head of his dick. Even if there was a condom separating him from her pretty little mouth, it didn't take away from the exquisite sensation of pressure as she swirled her tongue playfully over the tip. Her eyes glistened up at him, never saying a word but saying so many things all at once; she was enjoying herself, she liked the feeling of his cock in her mouth, and she wanted him to love it just as much as she did. Which he did. Bravely, he leaned on the support of only one elbow as his other hand reached down and gripped the back of her head. The curly tresses tickled his fingertips, but he didn't let go, instead settling on fisting a handful decisively, forcing her to take him deeper into her mouth. Her lips slipped down his shaft. So tight. So good. He let his fingers relax slightly, allowing her to explore him with her mouth. One of her hands stayed at the base of his dick, giving her the angle she needed to take more of him in, while her other hand brushed against the fabric of his pants covering his prized jewels.

"Fuck…" He sighed, lost in the sensation. "More."

She obliged, and for a brief moment Draco couldn't smell, hear, taste, or see. All he could do was feel as she took all of him in her mouth at once all the way down until her face was buried in the white-blonde hair of his pelvis. He was vaguely aware she was tugging his pants further down while she rested her mouth there, with him lodged in the back of her throat like the good little temptress she was. Draco's elbow began to wobble, and he let himself fall back on the bed, hissing a string of obscenities that sounded something like, "Fucking-holy-mother-fucking-goddamn _-fuck_." He clenched his teeth, concentrating everything on not letting himself come right then and there. He didn't want to be the man who couldn't last but… oh fuck, it had been so long since he had felt any type of womanly affection. He focused on her hair between his fingers and rubbed the back of her head caringly. As she came back up for air and ducked back down onto his dick again, he growled a low, guttural sound.

"Good girl, Granger," he purred. "Ah… yess… fuck… such a dirty little girl, aren't you? You like sucking my cock? Tell me. You like deep throating me?" He wasn't sure where all this new-found confidence about blow jobs came from, but he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He fisted her hair and pulled her all the way up to the tip, holding her head up to hover above him. She glanced back up at him, eyes blazing in desire as she trailed her tongue out and lapped at the tip. He jerked her roughly, away from his cock, loving the feeling of being in control. "Answer me. You like sucking me off?"

She nodded. He narrowed his eyes.

"Answer me. With words."

"Yes," she whispered, licking her lips, gripping him tighter at the base of his cock with her hand. "I love it."

"You want more?"

"Yes."

Oh, this was getting so good. This was everything he had imagined it would be, and yet so much more. Maybe it was good that she was the one to take this from him. To share it. The way her brown eyes were boring into his own silver ones made his stomach flip. He needed more of that pretty little mouth. _Now_. "Prove it."

He released her hair, and she took him in again, a new eagerness in her approach. Her tongue was quicker, trailing up and down his shaft with vigor. Her free hand found his testicles, caressing them delicately while deep throating him. When she came back up, she tightened the pressure in her mouth. Draco, once again, had to focus all of his attention on not peaking too soon. It was lucky he got himself off often in the shower, or he would have been gone ages ago. "Gra….Granger… gonna…"

She lapped up the trail of saliva from her mouth and blinked up at him. "You're close?"

"So close." He nodded.

She nodded, and then she did something he didn't expect. She carefully removed the condom, eyes only leaving his momentarily to toss it to the floor before she dipped her tongue out and -

"Oh… my…fuck…" Draco didn't just feel the heat now -it was the wetness of her tongue against his cock that made him twitch in her hands. Without thinking, he reached his hands down and pushed her mouth all the way on him, lost in the full sensation of her wet and willing mouth. He came in seconds, spilling himself into the back of her throat. To his astonishment and exhilaration, she welcomed the warm liquid, moaning against the flesh of his dick and pushing him even deeper. Draco was completely lost in paradise. "Yessss…." His hands still stayed on the back of her head, but he did allow her the opportunity to raise her head and swallow down his cum. She licked tenderly at the sensitive muscle until he was spent, and then leaned her head on his thigh, hands still cupping his ball sack and half-flaccid member.

He tried to clear his head to say something profound, but all that came out was, "Th-Thank you."

She laughed, her chin resting on his thigh as she stared up at him. "You're welcome?"

Draco found himself laughing as well, throwing his head back against the comforter. His entire body tingled, except for his toes (which had no feeling at all). This what all the fuss was about? It was certainly worth it. "I meant… that was amazing."

"You liked it?" She asked, shifting herself up off of him to lean back on her feet that were tucked underneath her. "Good."

He sat up, rubbing his face to bring blood back to it, and nodded vigorously. "You… know what you're doing."

"I do." She nodded, blushing. "Was it alright? I mean, me removing the condom? I didn't ask you, and I should have and-"

"Granger. Stop talking." He reached out and cupped her face with one of his hands, still gasping for breath. He was quite sure he looked like a disheveled mess. "I enjoyed every single second of it."

"Truly?"

He rolled his eyes and brought his lips crashing down onto hers. He didn't care if she had just swallowed his cum -if anything, it made the kiss that much hotter. He could taste the faint hint of blueberries along her lips and on her tongue. That flavored condom must have tasted damn good for her to go at him with such ferocity. His thumb rubbed delicately against the side of her face as he slowed the kiss down. Something about the moment said that this was correct. He felt her sigh into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. Well, this took an unexpected turn. Draco found himself leaning back again, this time with Granger in tow as he pulled her up on top of him. Her legs draped over his lap and her arms caged around his face. Her tongue danced with his, trying to win a dominance that he knew she could never really succeed. He was competitive by nature, and he wouldn't allow her to win. His hands slid down her face, her neck, over the curves of her breasts, her hips, and finally settled on her round backside. There, he kneaded the vivacious ass cheeks with tender ministrations.

He attempted conversation. "Wanna…" Kiss. "Rip off…" Kiss. "All of your…" Long kiss. "Clothes."

She pulled away from his lips then, resting her mouth against the crook of his neck to leave small bites. _Oh yes please_. He didn't even know he had the capability of moaning, but the sound escaped his lips before he could retract it back. He was self-conscious, but she didn't seem to mind. She just continued to bite and suckle and lick. The hands on her ass cheeks gripped tighter, and she moaned herself. He smirked.

"You're such a tease," she whispered against his throat.

"Am I?" He chuckled.

It was as if his laugh struck something within her. She abruptly sat upright, eyes wide, cheeks stained red. With one quick movement, she rolled off of him and found her footing on the floor. She let her arms wrap around her, and her lips turned down ever so slightly. "You should go."

"What?" He furrowed his brows, thoroughly perplexed. He leaned up on his elbows and cocked an eyebrow. "I thought we were enjoying each other's company?"

"Yes." She nodded. "We were. Which is why you should go."

"Granger…"

"Now." Her voice wasn't angry, but it did carry a distinct air of authority that made him sit completely up, tuck himself back into his pants, and button them back up.

"Just so we're clear… What did I do?"

"Nothing, Draco." She let his first name slip from her mouth. If he weren't so bewildered, he might have found it endearing. "Just please… I… I need some time to myself."

He swallowed hard and nodded. He pushed himself off of the bed, stood, and tried to straighten up his disheveled clothes. Draco wasn't sure if he should say anything else, and by the look on her face he better not, so he settled on rubbing the back of his head and approaching the door. He sighed, turned his face to her, and whispered, "I don't know what the bloody Hell I did wrong, but I sincerely apologize if I did."

"You didn't," she assured him. Timidly, she advanced to him and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."

He couldn't help but smirk at her, relief filling his core. "Yeah. Goodnight to you too." He turned the handle, opened the door, and shut it behind him. As he took to the stairs, he glanced back once at the wooden door with the black metal handle and couldn't help but hope that they'd repeat the evening again sometime.


	6. A List

**So someone in a review said that they hoped this wouldn't be another Dom/Draco Sub/Hermione type of story. And while I do enjoy writing those, I didn't ever think that Hermione ever came off as sub in this story. I thought it was sort of an equal tit for tat. I hope it stays that way. I hope you guys enjoy this next installment!**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Lose It" by Oh Wonder -this was on repeat while writing this chapter.**

* * *

Surrounded by a rubber dildo, condom wrappers, and a used condom on the floor, Hermione stared in the mirror near her door and observed herself; not physically, but mentally. Had she really just performed fellatio on Draco Malfoy? If her younger self could see her now, pacing back and forth across the squeaky floor boards of her sparse living quarters, flushed with blood and half-way wishing she could run out the door and call him back- well, her younger self might have just admitted her to the infirmary and given her an abstinence pamphlet. But even her younger self couldn't deny that he had a way, back then and now, of crawling under the surface of the skin and staying there. Like a parasite. A handsome, surprisingly enjoyable parasite.

Tonight, she had wanted to get lost in the moment when he had kissed her. It had been different than the fantasy versions of him; his real kisses were more tender and held a sense of purpose. He had been playful, which was something she had not anticipated, and despite the fact that he had put his hands on her backside, he had been quite the gentlemen. He hadn't tried to rip off her clothes or stick his hands where they weren't welcome. He had let her take control of the entire situation, feeling it out, allowing her the room she needed to continue.

That was what frightened her the most. She'd always pictured him being a dominating, calculating, take-no-prisoners type of lover. But instead, she had discovered him to be a much like a timid, playful kitten, unsure if he should pounce or run away. He'd egg her on, yes, but should he have felt the situation turn serious he would have bounded out that door never to look her in the eyes again. There was something so… _innocent_ about him. Not unsure, but simply virtuous.

"Ha!" She laughed to herself. "Listen to me. Describing a Malfoy as virtuous."

She suddenly felt very guilty for telling him to go. How confused he must have felt to one moment be in the middle of a passion filled make out, and the next being told that he needed to leave. She must have come off as such a tease! Or at the very least, someone with emotional issues. And really, that wasn't far off. Being intimate with someone… anyone… it just wasn't the right time. She wasn't sure if there would ever be a right time again. She hadn't realized how emotionally scarred Ron had left her until this very moment. Damn him.

Well, she wasn't going to let him do it any longer. She was a grown woman, and she could be intimate with anyone she felt like. Even if it was Malfoy… Did she want to take that step, though? Or had she acted on pure instinct? What did she really know about him, besides the obvious childhood memories? She didn't know much about who he was today; not his favorite food, or his favorite color. Not even what his aspirations were or what he dreamed about. And she most certainly didn't know what his stances were on muggleborns anymore… He had seemed so carefree around her, hadn't he? She'd never seen him act that way before. Was that who he was on the inside? Funny and shy and playful? It was endearing.

Hermione made a choice in that moment; she wanted to know more about Draco Malfoy. She needed to know who he was on the inside, and then… then she'd make the choice on if she really wanted to pursue this endeavor. And if she found out that he was truly callous, she could pretend this evening had never existed, free of any pretenses or expectations.

* * *

The next morning, the Great Hall was full of students fresh back from their trip to Hogsmeade. It made Hermione slightly relieved to see that Malfoy hadn't made it to the Professors' table yet, content on discussing something on the far end of the room with The Bloody Baron. He wore another version of his attire yesterday; but instead of a white button up, it was black, and instead of a silver vest, it was a dark green. She noticed that no matter how hot or cold it was in the school, he would always keep his arms covered, perhaps to hide his Dark Mark. She recalled Professor Snape would do the same thing.

When she arrived at the Professors' table, she waved to Neville and took a seat on his right instead of his left -right in Malfoy's seat. She knew exactly what she had done, and cast a quick glance his way. It didn't take him long to take notice of her, and his eyebrows turned up in a challenge. He still talked to the Baron as if nothing was wrong, but she noticed his eyes trail over to her every few moments before bouncing back to his conversational partner.

"Morning Hermione," Neville greeted her, looking from her usual chair to the one she had sat down in. "Change of scenery today?"

"An experiment," Hermione said, averting her gaze away from Malfoy. She reached over the table, plucked a piece of toast from a pile and began to butter it. "Sleep well?"

"As best as I could," Neville replied, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Nearly Headless Nick decided to pop by unexpectedly, and he wouldn't stop talking until I finally fell asleep in my arm chair. I woke up around three, and he was still there. Just continued his conversation as if I hadn't been asleep for two hours…" He gave a large yawn, stretching his arms out and behind her chair, as well as the vacant chair to his left. Leaning back, he gave a lopsided smile and asked, "How about you?"

Hermione glanced up in the direction of Malfoy, whose stare was fixed on her. She quickly averted her eyes elsewhere and gave a small cough. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Neville raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on it. He merely leaned back up in his chair and began to pick at his bowl of mixed fruit as Professor Malfoy approached the table with a skip in his step and an abnormally large smirk plastered across his face. He had let his stubble grow overnight -it aged him ever so slightly so that Hermione's imagination went wild, fantasizing about him bending over his work bench and telling her to call him 'Professor'. She felt the rush of exhilaration as her body reacted, warmth flooding between her thighs.

Malfoy put a cool hand atop the back of her chair and said, "Are you lost, Professor Granger?"

The way he dragged out her last name as if it were taffy he was pulling apart with his teeth made her breathing hitch. She shook her head, taking a bite of her toast. When she had swallowed it, she replied, "No, Professor Malfoy. Are you?"

"You're in my seat."

"Am I?" She flashed him a smirk that would have made him proud if not for the fact that it was out of defiance. "I don't believe any of our seats are assigned."

He slowly raised a threatening eyebrow, taking in a deep breath to calm himself before he released it and smiled. "Of course." He leaned forward, brushing his arm against her own as he snatched up a bowl of something and set it on her plate. "In that case, eat, Professor. You look a bit peckish." He winked at her and took his seat in her chair on the other side of Neville. Hermione's cheeks flushed red when she realized what he had sat in front of her: a bowl of blueberries.

* * *

"Professor Malfoy!" Hermione called out when she had found him again after breakfast, surrounded by a group of seventh year girls who giggled into their hands as he finished a quippish joke. He had slipped out of the Great Hall before she could get a chance to talk to him about the night before. Internally, she was grateful that it was Sunday and classes wouldn't start back up until tomorrow. She wasn't sure what she would do if she had to sit with this boiling in her all through her lessons. -Malfoy looked up from the group, excused himself politely, and instead of walking towards her, he began in the other direction. Hermione frowned and followed him. "Professor!"

"Now look who's stalking?" He called over his shoulder, turning a corner out of her sight. Hermione sped up on her pace, taking the corner tightly and running smack dab into his chest. "Oof!" The breath was knocked out of the both of them.

"Were you seriously waiting around the corner for me?" She asked him, brushing her clothes nervously. It was still snowy outside, so today she had settled on a casual pair of her dress slacks and a red, button up blouse. It brought out the slightly red undertones in her hair, though it wasn't as if anyone else would notice.

"Don't flatter yourself," he sneered, straightening his posture. They still stood intimately close to each other, and Hermione had to take a few steps back just to keep herself from attacking his lips again. "What do you want, Granger?"

"I was hoping to speak to you. About last night."

"What's there to discuss?" He shrugged, slipping his hands in his pockets. His head dipped low, and a small blush crawled up his cheeks. He concentrated on the wall beside them, making a point not to look her in the eye.

"I don't know you," she told him. His posture stiffened, but he said nothing. Hermione continued. "I don't know a single thing about you outside of what I've perceived. And… it frightened me. I'm not a loose cannon, Professor Malfoy. I don't simply let men into my dormitory at night to do enjoyable things and pretend it didn't exist the next day."

"You found it enjoyable?" He glanced at her for half a moment before darting his eyes away again.

"Didn't you?"

A faint smirk painted itself across his mouth. "I did."

"Then you can understand why I had to ask you to leave."

His smirk dropped. "No, actually, I don't understand."

Hermione sighed, leaning up against the wall and double checking to make sure their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "We hate each other."

" _Hate_ is a strong word. I dislike you strongly with a passion." He shrugged again. "But I don't hate you."

"Passion…" she repeated, the word tingling on her lips. "I suppose that would explain last night, then." She stared at him for quite a while, forcing him to look at her. "I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For running you off. We're both consenting adults. I should have… assessed my emotions a bit before I agreed to last night's… revels."

"Revels?" He snorted a laugh. "Is that what the kids are calling it?"

"And I'd like to continue," she said, nodding firmly.

He took a pause to process. "You want to what now?"

Hermione sighed. "Look, you and I are both consenting adults-"

"-You've said that already."

"- _Consenting adults_ who, despite our obvious detestation for each other, find each other sexually stimulating." She watched his eyes go wide and his eyebrows furrow together in a 'don't say that out loud in public' sort of way. But she ignored him. "Last night was an educative experience for the both of us. And I'm saying that perhaps we should continue to educate ourselves."

"Let me wrap my head around this." He leaned his arm against the wall and moved his face closer to hers, lowering his voice. "You're encouraging us to fool around again?"

"Yes." She nodded. "But under certain conditions. I wish to know more about you. I'm not someone who fools around with just anyone."

"I didn't think you were someone who fooled around with anyone at all."

She scowled. "You're on thin ice. I might decide to change my mind."

The anxiousness in his stance wasn't hard to miss as he leaned forward a bit more, trying to smooth it over with a quip. "But we both know you _won't_. Because you're Hermione Granger. And once you've set your mind to something, you'll never stop until you've succeeded." He smirked. "So… no."

"No?" She crinkled her eyebrows. "What do you mean _no_?"

"No means no. Isn't that part of your curriculum?" He flashed her a pearly white smile and gave her a wink. "We both know how much you hate to fail at something. So, I'm putting my foot down. No, Professor Granger. I _shan't_ fool around with you. My modesty is _ever so_ important to me."

Hermione wasn't an idiot; she knew that he was telling her no strictly to increase her sexual desire towards him. And damn him if it wasn't working, because she could feel the desperate pull in her stomach that said she very much had wanted him to say 'yes'. She wanted to shove him up against this wall right here, rip down his trousers and show him exactly what he was missing out on! She wouldn't, of course. They were standing in broad daylight in front of bustling crowds of students, and they were _Professors_. It was amazing how the thought of Draco Malfoy wanting nothing to do with her only made her want him that much more.

"Fine." She scowled at him. "Just fine."

She turned on her heel to leave, but he caught her by the arm and spun her back around discretely. "You know, you might try to convince me. Wouldn't hurt."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, the thrill of him being as desperate for this as her sending waves of heat over her skin. "I'll keep that in mind."

"And… should you want to get to know me more… we could trade off." He offered. "How about tonight in my dorm? A game of cards. Completely innocent."

"Anxious to get me alone again?" She teased, glancing down at his fingers still wrapped around her arm. He flexed them before releasing her.

"I can be a perfect gentleman, when the need arises."

"Ha. That's a laugh."

"You don't think I could?"

"I don't think you could be a gentleman if you're life depended on it."

"Yes, well…" He frowned. "We both know if you came over tonight, you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off of me anyways."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

She huffed. "You are absolutely infuriating!"

He smirked. "Gets you going, though, doesn't it?"

There was a long moment of tension before they both burst out into laughter, startling a few student passerby's. Draco stood straight once again, and made a small bow to Hermione.

"Until tonight then, Professor. But I mean it. Hands off the merchandise." He gave her a flirtatious wink and strutted off, more proud and arrogant than Hermione had ever seen him. If that's the way he was after a night of receiving oral sex, she could only imagine his strut after a night of unbridled passion. She leaned up against the wall, letting out a strong sigh. If the two of them had discovered all of this sexual energy in their teenage years towards each other, there wouldn't have been a broom closet or empty classroom that would have been safe. Would he be the kind of man to take her in a broom closet? Or even to let her drag him in to an abandoned classroom and tie him up? Would he even like that?

She suddenly got a very organized, well thought out idea.

* * *

Draco half way expected her not to show up. He thought maybe she'd realize what she had offered, would become struck with fear, and then would never speak to him outside of the classroom again. So when there was a small knock on his door at nine thirty in the evening, he became quite excited. He slicked back his hair with his fingers, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and strolled over to the door.

When he opened it, Granger was standing in the doorway with a long, rolled up bit of parchment clutched in her right hand. "Hello, Draco."

Draco. Holy fuck, she said his name again. The last time she had said it, it really hadn't registered in his brain fully until he was tucked away in the confines of his bedroom. And when it had hit him that she had said it with vigor and a seductive undertone, it had made him dream about her moaning his name over and over until the morning sun had awoken him. Hearing it again sparked the same sort of need within him. He decided to try something new. "Hello, _Hermione_."

The small gasp from her lips as she was taken aback by his forwardness made him swell with pride. She _liked_ it. She was ever so anxious to tear down these walls they had built since they were children, and if he were being completely honest with himself, so was he. He just didn't know where to begin or how to go about it. So he supposed a first named basis was a good place to start.

"What's that you have in your hand?" he asked as he moved aside to let her into his room. It was far larger than hers, draped in Slytherin tapestries and a hefty broomstick collection hanging from the far wall. In his spare time, he still liked to go out with the Slytherin Quidditch team and give them a run for their money.

Granger -no, Hermione. He was going to call her Hermione now. Well, Hermione looked around at the breathtaking display of his room and allowed her face to fall into envy. "Your room is so big!"

"It isn't the only thing that's big in here," he whispered, and she swatted him in the arm with her parchment.

"This," she presented it to him, "is a questionnaire for you. Actually, it's more of a list, and I'd like you to check off your experiences, what you'd like to experience, and what you're completely against."

His curiosity was peaked, and he took the scroll from her. He watched her take a seat on his bed. Brave. That was very brave of her, he noted. He undid the scroll and read out loud the top line. "Draco Malfoy's Preferences List." He grinned over to her. "This is very… thorough of you." He tore his eyes away to the first line, instantly flaring with a rush of blood to his ears.

 _Intercourse Positions:  
Missionary (man on top)  
Woman on top (face forward) 'cowgirl'  
Woman on top (face away) 'reverse cowgirl'  
Mounted (man behind woman) 'doggy'  
Spooning (lying down, man behind woman)_  
 _The Hot Seat (seated at end of bed, woman faces away)_

Each position on the list was followed by three boxes in three different columns: 'Done', 'Wish List', and 'Never'. There was a section dedicated to Positions, Sexual Fantasies, Fetishes, Places -the list went on and on. There were even spots for him to write in suggestions. He stopped reading as his heart hammered away in his chest. He glanced up to find her smirking in his general direction.

"Something wrong, Professor?" She asked in that low, seductive tone from last night.

He cleared his throat, squinted at the parchment, and said, "What's this?"

"I've told you. I want to get to know you better."

"I thought you meant what pet I had as a child and what's my least favorite vegetable."

"I want to know those too," she nodded, "But, you see, I have a confession to make." She fell back against his bed, her curls scattering across in a random, beautiful display that forced thoughts in his head of climbing on top of her and slipping her legs above his shoulders. "Since I'm not allowed to touch you, I would at least enjoy the luxury of fantasizing about you when I'm alone."

"Fa-Fantasize? About me?" It was all he could hope, and he found his hands shaking. He swallowed hard, willing his hands to his sides, paper still clutched tight in his fingers. "You want to fantasize about me?"

"No, Draco. I don't _want_ to. But I _do_. -Does that make you uncomfortable?"

No. It gave him a raging hard on that he would have to get rid of once she left. Maybe he could convince her to go down on him again. Or maybe she'd be up for a mutual tit for tat? _-No, stay firm, Draco. You told her no means no, remember? And now you're so anxious to drop the act so soon? What kind of a Malfoy are you?  
_  
"I can't control what goes on in your mind," he told her quietly, eyes trained on her as she gave a light stretch that perched her breasts up into the air. "So however you fantasize about me… it shouldn't matter what the real me is like. Considering you won't be _getting_ any of me." He had to add that last part just to prove he wasn't going to be seduced. Even if he were. Which he wasn't…

"Oh, I know." She rolled over on her stomach, facing away from him and exposing that glorious backside to him that was only covered by those irritating slacks. She swung her legs up in the air much like a teenage girl would as she was writing in her journal or whatever teenage girls did by themselves on a bed. He didn't really have time to think about It because there was a real woman sprawled across his. "I just want it to be realistic, you know? If I'm going to do it, I want to do it right. You said it yourself."

He glanced back down to the list and blinked twice. "Do _you_ have a list?" he asked.

She smiled, rolling off of his bed and back up to her feet to stand. She sauntered across the room and put a finger to his chest. "I do. But I'll only show you if you answer yours honestly." She lightly stood up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. "Your assignment is due by the end of the month. But you might get bonus points for turning it in sooner."

What did bonus points mean? Did it mean another blow job? Or hand job? Or Hermione in sexy lingerie? - _damn it, Draco! Focus!_

"So sorry I won't be able to stay for cards tonight." Her hand trailed over his chest, down his stomach, and stopped right at the top of his pants. "Busy day tomorrow teaching the children. I'm sure you understand." And then she left him, the door clicking behind her and leaving Draco in a puddle of nerves and raging hormones in the middle of his bedroom.


	7. A Prospect

**"Hurricane" by Panic! At The Disco**

* * *

Draco stared at the impossibly long list as he rubbed his fingers over his evening stubble. He'd need to shave before returning to class tomorrow morning, but he'd deal with that later. Right now, the task was assessing Hermione's dangerously seductive list and figuring out just what kind of sexual endeavors got his broomstick flying. Quite frankly, most of the things on the list that he understood looked appetizing, but there were still some of the suggestions that he had no idea what were or that were even possible. The idea of a woman taking control in the bedroom, for example, proved both stimulating and frightening. Did he want to be tied up and submissive? He'd never considered it before now. And the idea of Granger being the one to do it only made the thought more enticing.

But there were other things on this list… nipple clamps, for instance. The name said it all, but Draco had never even _seen_ them in person. And a vibrator… that had to be like the vibrating charm you could use on a wand, right? Then there was all this business of where to do it; outdoors, in a bath, on a roof, a balcony. He wondered if it could be done on a broomstick? Might be a bit of a headache, but his imagination got the best of him.

Damn Hermione Granger. This was exactly what she had wanted to procure from him, wasn't it? His fantasies ran wild late into the night, but it didn't stop him from at least filling out a bit of the list. Things that he had already done seemed sparse in comparison to the rest of the suggestions; he'd had intercourse, obviously, and had done quite a few on her list of positions. He was particularly interested in '69ing'. It sounded rather fun, and now that he would have a partner that would be willing to swallow his cock… fuck. No he didn't, because he had volunteered himself a poster-boy for abstinence! Way to be a sod, Draco. Way to be a fucking sod.

He wondered, as he sat his quill down and rubbed his tired eyes, just what Granger was doing at this very moment, and if she was as sexually charged up as he was.

* * *

If Draco Malfoy could see her now, he'd know that Hermione was indeed as sexually riled as he was. She hadn't told him when she had handed him his homework, but she had cast a dual-charm on a separate sheet of parchment tucked safely away in her room. This parchment was an exact copy of his list, and when she said exact copy, she meant _exact copy_. Whatever Draco Malfoy checked off on his pretty little list would also check off on hers, thus giving her the advantage of knowing his sexual preferences before he would even have a chance to show her. If there was one thing Hermione Granger was good at, it was getting the upper hand.

Dressed in her favorite red camisole and short shorts, she took a bite of her evening bagel she'd taken away from dinner and unrolled the parchment with a smile. There were already several ticks on the list, most of which were from the 'Done' category. She read the checks quietly to herself; missionary, doggy, cowgirl (not reverse cowgirl, though… how interesting), upright, -ooh, he had even tried the corkscrew! What a naughty boy… was it hot in here? She thought about opening a window, but decided on continuing to read the list instead. The 'Om' was a personal favorite of hers, where two lovers would face each other with the woman's legs draped over the man's hips as they rode out their sexual conquests while staring into each other's eyes. It was the one thing that Ron had been particularly good at; looking her in the eyes while they made love. Not that she would ever make love to Draco Malfoy… no. His sexual conquests were far from anything adoring, were they? Had he ever been in love to know what making love felt like? -Ooh, he had checked off the 'Om' as well! But in the 'Wish List' category, which surprised her. Was he fantasizing about her while checking it off? Or was it just a generality?

There was a timid knock at the door, and Hermione found herself in a sea of fluster as she rolled the parchment up quickly and stowed it away under her pillow. She grabbed up her fluffy bath-robe, wrapped it around herself, and padded to the door. She had just seen Draco check off on that list, so whomever was at her door at ten thirty this evening couldn't possibly be him. She reached for the door, giving a quick little breath to calm her nerves, and swung it open. Neville Longbottom smiled enthusiastically at her, dressed in his evening dress robes, sans tie. "Neville!" she exclaimed. "What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?"

"Just on my nightly patrols," Neville said, snuffing out the light from the tip of his wand with a 'nox.' "Thought I'd pop up and say that I think what you're doing with the kids is great."

"Oh?" Hermione found herself smiling. "You came all the way up here just to tell me that?"

"Well… not really… if I'm being honest." He rubbed the back of his freshly cut hair; it was shorter than she had ever seen it, but it aged him well. Neville was far from that pudgy little boy with round ears she had met their first year. He was a man now, with a stout frame and kind eyes and even a bit of muscle here and there. She'd never really noticed, and maybe it was all this sexual tension between her and Draco electrifying the air that made her see Neville clearly for the first time. He was handsome, in his own aloof way. Not handsome the way Draco was handsome, but in the way that reminded her of Ron; sweet and gentle. "I came up here to ask you… t-to ask you…" He bowed his head ever so slightly, glancing down at his scuffed up dress shoes.

"To ask me what, Neville?"

"To ask you… _if-you'd-maybe-like-to-have-coffee-with-me-next-Hogsmeade-trip_!" His offer came out in a slur of words that he shouted just a bit too loud. Knowing what he had done, he quickly ducked his head lower and whispered, "I-I mean… if you'd want to."

"Neville Longbottom." Hermione grinned, placing her hands on her hips. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"N-n-no!" He flushed as red as an apple. "I-I mean… yes! I mean. Well. Only if you want to, and you don't have to if you don't want to… I just thought… with you and Ron not being a thing anymore… and seeing as how we see each other anyways… and…"

With a firm hand, she reached out and patted his shoulder. "A cup of coffee sounds lovely, Neville. Truly."

His head shot up, and the beaming smile on his face could have blinded the room if it were made of sunlight. "Wow, really? I mean, that's great!" He rubbed the back of his head again, standing a bit more confident. "Thanks, Hermione. I was afraid you'd turn me down."

"Well, it's not like you were asking me to hop in bed with you!" Hermione laughed. She realized she might have been a bit too forward by the paling look on Neville's face, and she added quickly, "Joking, Neville. Joking."

"O-oh, of course." His ears now matched his face. "Though I b-bet you're a bang up in the b-bed… bedroom…" His eyes went wide, and he shook his head reverently. "Sorry. That came out wrong." He blinked twice, swooped in, kissed her cheek, and flushed even more (which she didn't think was possible.) "Right. Well, I… I'll leave you to it then." He bowed gracelessly and shut the door for her, leaving her alone in her bedroom to laugh into her pillow.

Oh, wow! What a turn of events! Hermione had never really considered Neville as a prospect before, but it did make sense. He was wonderfully kind, and he had the heart of a lion, sans all that selfish pride. No, he wasn't a thing like Draco… Draco… he'd _never_ ask _her_ on a date, would he? That would be preposterous!

She reached under her pillow and felt around until her fingers found the scroll. Just a peek, she said to herself, so that she might have a fantasy or two before bed…

* * *

Monday went by quickly, much to Draco's mortification, and Tuesday arrived like a thunderous bolt of lightning hurdling through the sky that read 'FEMALE SEX ORGANS' -or maybe that was just Professor Granger's white board. He stared at the obscene words, utterly perplexed while he waited for his fifth year students to filter in to the Great Hall. Hermione had yet to show up, but he knew she'd arrive any moment with that over-confident head held high. Perhaps that's why her curls were so large -to hide that enormous head of hers. Stupid Granger. Stupid white board. Stupid list that was tucked inside of his robes on an inside pocket. He didn't dare leave it in his dorms for a house elf to accidently throw out into the rubbage bin. What if a student went nose-diving for thrown away homework and discovered it? He shuddered at the thought.

When Professor Granger arrived this evening she wasn't alone. Longbottom accompanied her, carrying a muggle looking contraption with a tripod at the end of it. Some sort of projector, possibly. And the way he was smiling at her, as if she were the last custard delight at the end of a long day… Well, that just didn't sit right with Draco. Not that he cared or anything. He just knew Hermione was far above Longbottom's attainability. But then, why was she giggling into her hand like a school girl? Why, for the mother of dragons, would she find anything that cur had to say stimulating?

"Neville, you simply must stop!" she laughed, patting him in the shoulder. Longbottom gave a lopsided smile and set the tripod down next to the white board. His gaze met Draco's, and both men gave a sharp nod.

"Did you hear that?" Asked Bradly Wayne, nudging one of his friends in the side, "Professor Granger just called Professor L by his first name! Do you think they're dating?"

"Wayne," Draco lulled, cocking an arrogant brow, " _Do_ butt out."

"Now, that's not very nice, Professor," chided Hermione as she approached him. She flashed him an innocent smile and turned to Bradly. "Professor L and I have been friends since our first year at Hogwarts. It seems only appropriate that I can call him by his given name, don't you agree, Mister Wayne?"

Wayne smirked, trailing his eyes over to his Potions Professor. "How long have you and Professor Malfoy known each other?"

"Oh, I don't know. About the same amount, I'd imagine."

"But you don't call _him_ by his given name."

"Wayne," Draco growled again, " _Do_ butt _out_."

"Yes, well," said Hermione, ignoring Draco, "Perhaps Professor Malfoy hasn't earned that title yet. He's a cheeky man, you know."

Wayne sniggered into his sleeve and turned to talk amongst his friends. Draco, irritated, strolled up directly behind her and whispered into her ear, "Give me a dark room and an hour and I'll show you cheeky."

She laughed quietly into the palm of her hand, and it made Draco's chest inflate with smugness. Longbottom wasn't the only one who could make her laugh, dammit. -Wait, was he seriously trying to one up Neville Longbottom? What the bloody Hell was happening to him? Perhaps he should visit the infirmary after class was over…

"Are you ready for today's lesson?" Hermione asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Aside from them, Longbottom was setting up the projector for her like an eager puppy. Ha. Well, at least Draco knew better than to do that. He wouldn't be caught dead doing chivalrous things for that infuriating bookworm with tits so inviting he wanted to spend his holiday under the covers with them in his mouth.

He shook his head from his daydream and scowled up to the board. "No, actually."

"Ever the prude," she quipped.

"You and I both know that's not entirely true."

The pink strung across her cheeks fit her skin tone perfectly as she flittered away from him to help Longbottom set up a projector screen. By the time they had finished, the classroom had all come together, staring impatiently while talking amongst themselves. Hermione thanked Neville with a warm hug, which made a set of Gryffindor girls cheer unexpectedly from the back of the hall. Draco glared at them, and their tizzy fizzled into quiet whispers.

"Have fun!" Longbottom told Hermione as he took his leave, waving to a few of his fellow students as he went. Hermione pushed a small hand held device with her thumb, and the projector lit up with the words 'VAGINA: WHAT AM I? AND WHY AM I IMPORTANT?'

He instantly became mortified. Oh God. No. No, no, no. This was too much. Just way too much. "Professor Granger," he whispered, calling her attention. She approached him, grinning ear to ear.

"Yes, Professor Malfoy?"

"Does it have to say that word up there?"

"What? Vagina?"

Behind him, Draco could hear Wayne roar with laughter. "She said vagina! Did you hear that, everyone? Professor Granger just said vagina!" Oh, what circle of Hell was Draco in now?

"Yes." Hermione stood straight and patted Draco's chest for good sport. "Vagina." She looked around the room, and shouted a bit louder, "Vagina!" That got the students' attention, and soon the class hushed and stared at her. A few of them laughed, and even one in the back shouted 'vagina!' back to her. Vivian Wallum's hand shot up into the air, and Hermione answered her gleefully. "Miss Wallum?"

"Is this sort of like the penis game?" Vivian asked. The penis game. Oh, Draco hadn't thought about that in _years_. Potter and Weasley thought that game was quite a trip if he recalled correctly.

"Are you referring to the game where individuals shout the word penis at a higher pitch volume as the game continues, until everyone chickens out except the loudest shouter?"

"Yes!" Wallum clapped her hands. "Professor Granger, you simply are the coolest teacher I've ever met."

"Hey," Draco frowned, "What am I? Chopped goblin?"

Wallum shrugged.

"Thank you, Miss Wallum. You bring up a wonderful introduction to this next course: if you fear a word, you will most certainly fear the thing itself. So, on three, I'd like everyone in the room to shout: vagina!"

"NO thank you," Draco scoffed, eliciting a slew of giggles from about half of the class.

Hermione spun on her heels, her hands placed firmly on her hips. "What was that, Professor Malfoy?"

"I said: _no thank you_. Why must the students shout obscene words to make a point? They can read. They're not incapable of figuring out just what you'd like to teach them." He crossed his arms, setting his stance decisively.

"I'm trying to _teach them_ that they are in control of their own minds, and that they shouldn't let fear a clinical word."

" _We_ never had to shout _vagina_ in a classroom full of _our_ peers."

"Professor Malfoy just said VAGINA!" a blonde haired twit shouted from the Hufflepuff table.

"Yes." Hermione smirked. "Yes, he did." She turned around to the class. "On three. One!"

"Granger."

"Two!"

"Hermione!"

"Ooh!" Wayne gleefully pointed between the two. "Professor Malfoy likes Professor Granger! He called her by her given name!"

"That's not how it works, Wayne!"

"Three!"

To Draco's mortification, the entire class lit up with, "VAGINA!"

Fuck. This was getting well out of hand.

Granger pressed the button in her hand again, and the projector flickered to a sketched diagram of a woman's undercarriage, besmirched by clinical terms such as 'uterus' and 'labia' and 'vaginal canal'. Oh good gods, strike him down right now. He averted his gaze quickly, which didn't help at all because he met the eyes of a fifteen-year-old girl and just about fell over in mortification. He closed his eyes, braced himself against the podium, and lowered his head. As he listened to Granger talk about the differences between the inner and outer lips of the vagina, he pulled out his list and quickly marked 'Play Doctor' on his 'Never' list. Nope. Never gonna happen.

A boy much smaller than his peers raised his hand, and Granger called on him. "Professor Granger, um… what's that?" He gestured up to the diagram.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific, Charlie."

"That bit between… between the… the holes."

The room giggled hopelessly, and Draco bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming at the entire lot of them to shut their faces.

"Oh, this bit?" Hermione pointed to the area. "This is the perineum."

"Oh." Charlie frowned. "Is it?"

"What do you call it, Charlie?"

"The taint?"

Even majorly-prude Draco Malfoy burst out into laughter, and the tension in his brow lessened. He threw his head onto the podium, trying to muffle his laughs. This day… this day was amazingly disastrous. He coughed back the last of his laughs and exchanged humorous glances with Hermione, who then replied to Charlie, "Well… that is a street name for the perineum."

"Why?"

"Cuz it taint the pussy and it taint the anus!" shouted a Slytherin boy gleefully, and the room began to fly off the handle in nervous laughter. Draco scowled; though he had to give the kid credit for creativity, it was highly inappropriate.

"Mr. Silvan!" he shouted sternly. "Ten points from Slytherin for inappropriate language, and you can see me in detention this evening."

"Awwwww!" Silvan threw himself down in his chair, sulking. "Taint that my luck!"

"Another ten points!" Draco growled, scowling. "Come on, Silvan! This is my House your tarnishing! Get it together!"

Hermione and her fellow Gryffindors laughed, making his ears burn. He was never going to make it through this day intact.

"Miss Granger," said Rosemary Jones, "Are you sure that diagram is correct?"

"Quite. Why, Miss Jones?"

"I… do they all look that way?"

"What dear? Vaginas?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Oh, heavens no!" Hermione pointed to the diagram. "This is only an example piece. Every woman's vagina, especially her inner and outer lips, will look a bit different. Sometimes, a clitoris will be a bit more hooded than another, and colors vary. It is perfectly acceptable for your vagina to look nothing like the example here."

That peaked Draco's interest, despite the fact that she kept throwing those clinical terms around like the Healer that she was. Did Granger's look like the example? Or was it smaller? Larger? Was it hideous? No, surely not. Everything on that body was exquisite; her pussy would most certainly match the rest of her. Did she have a landing strip, though? Or was she completely bare against her folds? Did she go all natural? Draco quickly made a note on his parchment in the suggestions page; he liked a clean, well-groomed woman downstairs. He didn't care if there was hair, but it bloody well be taken care of. 'Trimmed or clean is best' he wrote, feeling the blush crawl up his cheeks. Well, he was certainly discovering himself, wasn't he?

"Taking notes, Professor Malfoy?" Hermione called out to him. Draco's face slowly crawled up to meet hers, and his eyes widened into saucers. With a cough and a quick roll of parchment, he shook his head and tucked the scroll back inside his robes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione's lips pull back in a provocative smile.


	8. A Confrontation

_Haha, a lot of you don't want Neville out of the friend zone. It made me laugh quite a bit. Don't worry, people. I ship Dramione for a reason. Neville is a plot device, and I'm not going to exclude him, but you needn't worry yourselves. And I'm not using him as a 'romantic prospect' for Hermione. She'll figure out she doesn't want to continue on. But just trust me, I know where I'm going with this, and it will all make sense later._

 _So much love for the humor in this fic, and that delights me. Thank you all for the kind words. It really still baffles me that anyone wants to read my work, so thank you again, from the top and bottom of my heart._  
 _Much love, apple hugs and vanilla kisses_  
 _A._

* * *

 **"Harlem" by New Politics**

* * *

The next two weeks dragged on at a snail's pace, irritating the shit out of Draco. Every night, he added a bit of detail to the list, and every night he went to bed with an ache in his groin and his thoughts drifting around a curly-haired brunette with a behind so exquisite it could only be matched in detail by the sound of her laugh. Really, the laugh was the thing that kept him up at night. He could hear it even when he was alone grading papers or tucked away in his shower trying to scrub off the pungent smell of defeat; because, deep down, Draco knew he had been bested, yet again, by Hermione Granger. She was doing things to him not just physically, but mentally. And he couldn't quite understand why until Wednesday morning with his fourth year students, when Tabitha Cornfield and her best friend Jesse Hobsworth were huddled around a cauldron, gossiping their fourteen-year-old hearts out.

"Did you hear?" said Tabitha, also calling the attention towards the table in front of her, where Lidia Cornelia and her partner Liam Houste were seated. "Professor L asked Professor Granger out on a date!"

Draco's eyes flickered up from his task at hand (grading Wayne's essay paper from yesterday), and he nonchalantly tried to pretend that he was simply glancing around the room to watch his students work.

"No offense, Tabitha," said Lidia, turning in her chair, "But why do any of us care?"

"Well, it's a bit exciting, isn't it?" asked Jesse, sticking up for her friend's attempt at juicy chatter. "I've never seen two professors date before."

"How do you even know it's a date?" asked Lidia.

Tabitha was the one to answer. "Because it's on the next Hogsmeade trip."

"Is that significant?" Yes, was it?

"Don't you remember what day that falls on?"

Oh. OH. Draco's eyes widened momentarily, and he averted his gaze quickly back to his paper as to not draw attention to himself as he sniggered into the back of his hand. Had Granger even realized? He'd have to find out for himself. But what if she did know, and had said yes anyways? Did she really mean to date Longbottom? And if so, where did that leave Draco in the thick of it? He'd have to find out this evening for sure. Giving up on grading Wayne's shoddy essay, he brought out Granger's list and began to check off the boxes one by one. He'd need an excuse to see her after all…

* * *

"Are you really going to Hogsmeade with Longbottom next weekend?" Malfoy asked, startling Hermione from her afternoon tea. It was her free period, and she had been so enthralled by grading papers and listening to Chopin's 'Nocturne' on the record player in the corner of her room that she hadn't heard him come in. The music matched his graceful demeanor rather well as he thrust out a scroll in front of her nose. Hermione reached up, took it gently, and smiled up at him.

"Well, hello to you too, Professor Malfoy. This is your homework, I presume?"

He smirked down at her, crossing his arms. "Answer my question, Granger. Are you and Longbottom going on a date?"

"Where did you hear that from?"

"Oh, it's quite the bit of gossip amongst the fourth years."

"Is it?"

"So is it true?" His mouth was pulled up so smugly that she wanted to slap it off of his face.

"It's just coffee, Malfoy."

"Just coffee? Oh, Granger, Granger, _Granger_." He placed his hand on his mouth and laughed into it. "Do you really not know?"

"Know what?"

"What next weekend is?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, confused. "I don't like the way you're smiling. What's next weekend?" She opened up her drawer, pulled out her calendar, and began to sift through the dates. When her finger fell upon Saturday, February 14th… her heart just about plunged into her stomach, and she paled so much that she could have matched Draco's complexion. "V-Valentine's Day? I've made plans with Neville on Valentine's Day?"

"Keep up, Granger. Keep up." Malfoy looked about as content as a cat who had finally found something warm to sleep on. He took a brisk walk around the room, arms tucked neatly behind his back, as he continued. "I have to say, I didn't take Longbottom for your type, but then again, Weasley was never your type either, was he?"

"Now what are you going on about?" Hermione sighed, setting her chin in her hand. "You're rather cheery."

He stopped his pacing to glance back at her. "And you're rather… blasé about it all." He narrowed his eyes, his cheery disposition gone almost at once. "Hold on, are you saying that you're alright with going on a date with Longbottom?"

"Of course." She raised an eyebrow. If she didn't know any better, he nearly sounded jealous. "I knew it was a date to begin with. I just didn't know that it was on one of the most romantic holidays of the year. Sort of makes for an awkward occasion, but I can work with it." She rubbed her temples with her fingers, feeling a headache approaching. "Why do you care, anyways?"

"I don't," Draco sneered, quickly coming back across the room to stand at the edge of her desk. "But…" His eyes almost carried a hint of – was that hurt? Or perhaps that was anger? She would surely recognize anger (she'd seen enough of Draco's anger from their childhood) so was this really what he looked like when he was betrayed? Surely not. Surely this was all some elaborate hoax. Because Draco Malfoy didn't pine over muggleborn women -lusted, sure, but never pined. "But, I thought we had a… a thing going."

"Did you?" Hermione smirked, covering the apprehension she felt in her gut by the way he had said that last statement, as if he really were just as taken aback by her date as she was that it was on the 14th of February. "I distinctly recall you telling me that my hands were to… how did you word it? Stay off the merchandise?"

"Yes, but you and I both know I didn't mean it," he said breathlessly. With wide eyes he realized precisely what he had said and backed up a few paces, clearing his throat. "I-I mean… fuck… I mean…" There was a pregnant pause, where he took his time, searching for the right words. "Why Longbottom?"

Hermione blinked at him. Where was all of this coming from? Why did it make her want to know? "Why not Neville?"

"He's not really your type, is he?"

"Then who is my type, Draco?"

He stared at her long and hard for a moment, eyebrows crumpled together, jaw clenched. Then his face fell and he sighed. "I don't know."

"Exactly. You don't know." She rose from her chair and placed her hands on the desk. "You don't know a thing about me to judge who I decide to date. You hardly know a single bit about me outside of our… experience we shared."

"You think you're going to be able to find an experience like that with him?" he sneered suddenly, crossing his arms like a two-year-old.

"I doubt it. Neville doesn't seem the type to enjoy…" She unrolled the scroll and to Draco's chagrin read one of his 'Wish List' ideas off. "Eating whip cream off of woman's body." He wasn't the only one to blush; a slow crawl of warmth crept up her cheeks and stayed there. "But then again, I don't plan on going that far with Neville to find out."

"You don't?"

She laughed ever so slightly. "Heavens, no. But I have to put myself out there, don't I? If I turned down every man who asks me on a date after Ron, how will I ever know when the right one comes along?"

"So… what does that make this, then?" Draco nudged his eyes in the direction of the list.

Hermione's heart jumped behind her ribcage. "I… I'm not sure." She laughed again, although this time it was forced. "Listen to us. Going on about my date with Neville. Sort of silly, don't you think?"

"Is it?"

"Yes. I mean, it's not like you care who I go on a date with." She made a point to say the words out loud and solidify them. She watched, ranging Draco's reaction, which was a mix somewhere between a nod and a scowl. He tapped his foot a few times upon the floor, scratched under his chin, and glanced back to her decidedly.

"Thing is, Granger, those pureblood ideologies you make fun of me for," he strolled around the desk and rested a hand on each of her shoulders, fingers digging into her skin like the way an owl would dig his talons into his prey, "They're really engrained in me. And do you know what they're telling me right now?" He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear. "Hmm, Hermione?"

She glanced up at her classroom door, which was shut, and over to the record player, which had stopped playing only moments ago. The room was empty and yet so full of tension as Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to take breath after careful breath. When had things taken such a treacherous turn?

Draco continued, his hot breath tickling her cheek like a fire licking at the air. "Those stupid regulations are telling me that I shouldn't meddle around with someone like you. That if you're courting someone else, I should bloody well back off and never speak to you again. Is that what you want me to do?"

No, that's not what she wanted at all. She hadn't thought her date with Neville would evoke such a stir of emotions from her formal rival; really, she hadn't thought about him much at all when she had agreed to the date. But should she have, really? She was a single witch not tied down by any wizard. But the man with his fingers digging into her shoulders could tie _her_ up if he wanted. Maybe gag her… take her from behind as he whispered seductive claims into her ear…

"It's just coffee," she said again, lamely.

His lips grazed against her earlobe as his fingers gripped her tighter. "Do you want to have coffee with me?"

Oh God, was that a real question? It was hard to tell if he was being serious or mocking her, so she sat perfectly still and chewed on her lower lip. When he pulled away from her, she let out a sigh and turned around in her chair. "You're serious?"

"Did I stutter?"

She shook her head. "No, you didn't." She rose from her chair and squared him up, though he was a fair amount taller than her. "You're asking me to have coffee with you."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Hogsmeade trip."

"Why?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "As you've said, it's just coffee."

"Yes. But when Neville asked me, he asked me as a date. Is that what you're doing?"

He fidgeted nervously, glancing down at his perfectly manicured hands as if there could possibly be a speck of dirt underneath them. "You said you wanted to get to know me, right?" He glanced up at her, and then back down at his nails. They, apparently, were very interesting. "Well, here's your opportunity."

Hermione had never heard such a terrible proposal for a date in her entire life. "Oh, gee. Thank you, Lord Malfoy, for bestowing your good graces upon us small folk and humbling us with your time. We should all be privy to thank you for the time you allot us with your presence."

He smirked. "Quippy."

"Not interested." She crossed her arms.

Draco frowned. "What? Why not?"

"Because that was by far the worst attempt I've ever heard to ask a woman on a proper date."

"Is that what you want from me? A proper date?" He flexed his fingers, turning his hand this way and that as he stared at it. It was a great buffer from having to look Hermione square in the eyes. "Because you have an odd way of showing it." How had he managed to turn the tables on her already?

"Excuse me?"

"You're irritating," he told her, finally mustering the courage to caress his eyes over her face. "You are stubborn, insufferable, and you don't give a damn what anyone else has to say if they disagree with you. You think that your way is the only way, and everyone else can shove it up their arse. You nitpicked Potter and Weasley all through school. I think you get off on telling others what to do."

"Hmm, are you sure you're not describing yourself?"

"See?" He stepped forward, thrusting himself into her personal space, nose to nose with her. "You always have to feel like you're in control of the situation, and you hate losing." His eyes searched hers, though for what she didn't know. His hands were fisted down at his sides, but his lips were drawing ever closer, his breathing hitched, his shoulders sturdy and sure as he stood his ground against her. "And despite all of those things, I've still asked you for coffee. So if you're going to turn me down, you better have a damn good reason why. Because, frankly, anyone who's willing to put up with that oversized brain of yours deserves a _goddamn_ medal."

Oh! Of all the intolerable things to come out of his mouth! "You want to know why I said no, Malfoy? Why I said yes to Neville and no to you?" She pressed the tip of her nose to his, eyes boring into his skull like two orb shaped drills. If she could, she'd use those eyes to lobotomize him, but as it were, all she could do was scowl. "Because Neville is a kind hearted soul who puts others before himself! He never used to tease me in school, or enlarge my teeth, or call me ' _Mudblood_ '!" She shouted the xenophobic name at him as she pushed on his shoulder with one of her hands, knocking him slightly off balance, but not enough to make him fall away from his death stare against her. "Because I know that Neville isn't trying to goad a response out of me simply because he possesses the emotional shortcomings of a kettle pot! Because Neville Longbottom isn't afraid to say that he likes me! Not to me, or others, or even _himself_ -!"

Warm lips crashed against hers, sending her stumbling back against her desk. Her tailbone hit the edge of the thick wood and sent a sting of pain up her spine, but it fell away in the shadow of the overdue, sexually electrified kiss that Draco Malfoy was bestowing upon her. His fingers instinctively found their place at the sides of her hips while his tongue ran along the skin of her lower lip, demanding entrance into her mouth. Hermione conceded almost at once; it was like she was an outsider watching it all unfold from a distance. Malfoy was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and that tongue that she had long since craved sent heatwaves over her body as it collided with her own. He tasted of peppermints and chocolate, and it was heavenly. He brought one of his pale hands up to her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb along her cheekbones as he slowed down the kiss to a mild jog. His eyes were closed, lost in the sensations just like she was. Their tongues stopped wrestling, finding a rhythm amongst themselves, dancing along the crevices of each other's mouths as if they had done this a hundred times. And perhaps they had in their dreams, but this was reality, and it was so much more rewarding.

Hermione tried to keep her hands down at her sides, and she managed only by gripping the bottom of his robes and holding on for dear life as she pulled him even closer to her. He stumbled forward, pressing his pelvis against hers as their kissing sped up, hungry for one another. Kissing Draco was like breathing into a paper bag; suffocating and calming all at once. The more she let herself be drawn in by his scent and taste and touch, the more she felt like she might lose her sense of control. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking like a roller coaster ride that had never been cleared for public use. This was uncharted territory, and it could go off the rails at any moment if she weren't careful.

Gently, she released his robes, becoming less of Hermione Granger, the ever prudent Healer/Teacher, and more of Hermione Granger, the sexual deviant who wanted nothing more than to slam Draco Malfoy down on top of her desk and ride him silly. Her hands slid up the muscles of his stomach (they were firm, she noted, beneath those suffocating robes), and up further to his chest, where they explored over his pectorals with ferocity. Draco's instincts got the better of him when she raked her nails down his shoulders with just enough pressure, and he rolled his hips, pressing his firm erection against her. Before Hermione knew what was happening, his hands found their way behind her to her ass cheeks and she was scooped up, prompting her to sit on top of her desk and wrap her legs around his hips. He released her ass, hands trailing intricate designs up and down the fabric against her back as he tenderly suckled at her lower lip.

"Umm… Professor Granger?" a timid voice asked from the doorway. Draco and Hermione both jumped at once, him pulling away from her in a fluster of red cheeks and wide eyes while she dropped her legs down off of his hips and turned her head to stare at one Lidia Penelope Cornelia as her hands gripped a slightly bent essay paper. "I… I can come back later…"

"Oh. Oh! No! Erm…" Hermione tried fan herself as she brought herself up to stand. Draco had taken to the wall, back pressed up against her blackboard and embarrassment besmirching his handsome face. She scrambled over to her student, shaking her head. "No, Miss Cornelia. I… I'm sorry for the unprofessional nature that you have found Professor Malfoy and I engaging in…"

Lidia glanced over to her Potions professor, then back to Hermione. "I did try to knock on the door before I came in."

"I believe you."

"Anyways." Lidia shook her head from her daze and held up the paper. "I was just going to turn in next week's assignment to get a jump on things, since I'm taking extra classes, you see…"

"Yes, well… that's very diligent of you, Miss Cornelia. Thank you." Hermione forced a smile and took the paper from Lidia. "Is there anything else?"

"No." Lidia's eyes fluttered over to the desk where she had caught her two teachers passionately grinding each other and she grinned. "So are you and Professor Malfoy an item now, or…?"

"An -An item?" Hermione squeaked out. She exchanged careful glances with Draco. "We're… still figuring that out."

"I see." Lidia's almond shaped eyes glistened back at her with humor. "I think you should take him up on that coffee, Professor Granger."

Draco's eyebrows twisted up in a concerned state. "Just how long were you standing outside of that door, Miss Cornelia?"

Lidia shrugged. "I won't say anything. In fact, I've forgotten it already." She grinned to both of her Professors and waved to them as she approached the door. "Have a goodnight, Professors!" She left them, and when the door clicked shut behind her both Draco and Hermione let out an anxious sigh of relief.

"That… was unexpected," Hermione laughed.

"Unexpected? The girl was practically a voyeur!" Draco threw his hand up into the air, and then rubbed his eyes. "Although, she was right about one thing."

"What's that?"

He smirked, meeting her gaze. "You should take me up on that coffee."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. After what seemed like ages, she smiled. "Ask me properly, then."

"Hmm? What?"

"If you want me to have coffee with you, ask me like a proper gentleman."

Draco grimaced. "I never said I was a proper gentleman."

"No, but you did tell me you could be one, when the need arises. Well, here it is. Prove it."

With a close of his eyes, it looked as if he were having an internal struggle with himself on the subject of if it was worth it. Something won out, because he opened up his eyes again, stalked up to her, and in a low, guttural tone mumbled, "Hermione, would you like to have coffee with me on Valentine's Day?"

"Yes, Draco." She smiled. "I'd love to." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Right after my coffee with Neville."

"What?" His eyes narrowed. "You're still going on a date with that twat?"

"Of course I am. Did you think I was going to cancel on him just because you decided to work up the nerve to ask me on a date yourself? Looks like you have competition, Professor Malfoy."

"Hmph." He crossed his arms. "That's not competition. I'll mop the floor with his date, you just wait and see."

She patted his cheek. "Can't wait." Hermione sauntered back over to her desk, to a seat, and feigned a yawn. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I have some homework to grade." She picked up Draco's Sexual Preferences List and wagged it in the air between them.

Draco blushed, stalking to the door with a string of obscenities under his breath, but at the last moment he stopped before his hand touched the handle and said over his shoulder, "I like the way you call me 'Professor.'"

"Do you?"

"It's… quite a turn on."

"I'll be sure to remember that, _Professor_."

She watched as his shoulders tensed and his back went ridged. He shook his head, throwing himself from his urge to turn back around, and as he was leaving shouted, "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione doubled over on her desk, laughing hysterically.


	9. A Date

**A * _huge*_ shout out to my awesome and dear friend  WayMay for her proofing this chapter for me! She cracks me up and keeps me on my toes! We make a fine pair of friends indeed, so please give her love in your review (if you happen to leave one). -On the subject of reviews, your reviews have cracked me up well into the night and next day following my posts. If anything, the reason why I try to update so often is to read the hilarious reviews that pop up in my emails. Again, thank you LightofEvolution for this plot bunny that you've let me run wild across the halls of Hogwarts with. We're having a heck of a time finding ourselves within this story. *hearts*  
~A.**

* * *

 **"Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" by Relient K**

* * *

The day of the February Hogsmeade trip was quickly approaching, and Hermione had never felt so daunted by a date in nearly her entire life (aside from her exams as a student). Luckily for both her and Professor Malfoy, Lidia Penelope Cornelia had, indeed, kept her mouth shut, which alleviated the fear in Hermione's heart when she approached Neville the day before the Hogsmeade trip to tell him that his date would not be the only one in the works Saturday.

"Hello Neville," she said warmly as she approached the breakfast table Friday morning. Professor Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, so she took this as a sign that this would certainly be the moment she could confess her double date. Neville glanced up from his strawberry muffin doused in honey glaze and waved his hand gleefully.

"Allo, Hermione!" He sat up a bit straighter, and pulled the chair out to his right for her to take a seat. She did, and she even let him set a couple of pieces of toast on her plate. "How are the lessons going?"

"They're great," she replied, taking a sip of some milk from her goblet. "Erm… Neville… I have a confession to make."

"You're going on a date with Malfoy tomorrow," he nodded, causing Hermione to choke on her milk and spit it back into her goblet. She patted her chest, trying to clear the milk from the wrong passage, and a firm hand came up from behind her and patted her between the shoulder blades. Neville continued to pat until she could breathe again.

"Y-You knew?" She choked out at once, a crinkle between her eyebrows.

"I've known for over a week. Honestly, I was wondering if you were going to tell me at all."

"Who told you?"

"Who do you think?"

As if he were cued to perform on stage, Professor Malfoy walked through the double doors and approached the Professors table with a smug smirk on his face. He exchanged a nod of the head with Neville and took a seat next to him.

"You told Neville?" Hermione leaned over the table and careened her head in the direction of Draco. He flickered his eyes up from his plate and over to her, Neville between them.

"You didn't?"

"I was in the process of telling him right now."

"He's right here, you know," mumbled Neville.

Draco ignored him. "Waiting till the day before the date? Bad form." He tisked.

"No, what's bad form is not letting me handle my own affairs."

"It's not just your affair, is it? It takes two to date, Professor."

"He's got a point," said Neville.

Hermione sat up straight and glared at both men. "Just whose side are you two on?"

"Which ever pisses you off more," smirked Draco.

"I'm not on anyone's side, Hermione," said Neville, "But Malfoy has a point. You shouldn't have waited so long to discuss it. We're all adults here. The only thing I don't understand is why you'd want to date someone like _him_."

"Ooh, kitty's got claws…" Draco chuckled.

"Was that a… a… pu-pu-"

"Yes, Longbottom. I called you a pussy. What is it you say, Granger? Fear of a word…?" He rose an eyebrow between the two suggestively.

"Do you really want to date that idiot?" Neville motioned his thumb over to Malfoy.

"Frankly, I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't date either of you if this is how you treat men you're jealous of."

"I'm not jealous!" They shouted in unison.

A few chairs away, Professor Flitwick leaned over to Professor Trelawney and said in a hushed tone, "My bet is on Professor Longbottom. Any bets, Sybill?"

Trelawney acted as if she had seen a great premonition, nodded, and said, "I'll take you up on that wager, Filius. Professor Malfoy's aura is heavy with resolve."

Flitwick rolled his eyes, but shook her hand anyways. "The bet is on then."

"Ah… young love… and hormones."

* * *

Obnoxious floating magical holograms of hearts floated down every hallway Draco came across on the morning of Valentine's Day. He couldn't avoid running smack dab into a few on his way towards the front doors and bursting them into puffs of sweet smelling smoke with his face or shoulder. It made him irritated to see the couples paired off in the hallways, as if their hormonal trysts might last for a lifetime. Hah. As if. In a few months, they'd all be sick of each other and onto humping the next pretty body they came across… Speaking of pretty bodies, Hermione took his breath away when he spotted her up by the front doors chatting away with stupid Longbottom. Gone were her stuffy work robes as she adorned a simple yet tasteful red pleated skirt and black button up blouse. The weather had shifted dramatically since the last Hogsmeade trip, and it was rather sunny outside, giving her the excuse to wear the tempting outfit. Longbottom was underdressed in khaki trousers and a long sleeved polo. It made Draco feel rather impressed with his usual attire of button up/ vest combo that was tailored to fit his body in all the right ways. Once he realized he was assessing everyone's attire, he instantly felt irritated with himself; Granger wasn't raised to scrutinize a person's appearance the way he had been, so she wouldn't care what he wore as long as it was with a smile and a cheery disposition. It was all so strange, knowing he was going on a date with someone who really could give a skrewt's ass what he wore. Strange and satisfying.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have his fun. "Professors," he said, bowing ever so slightly in Hermione's direction; a courting ritual from his old habits that he couldn't shake no matter how much he tried. He purposefully scanned his eyes over Longbottom's hideous attire and smirked. "Going to a polo match today, _Long_ bottom?"

Neville ignored his comment, instead commenting on Hermione's attire. "You look beautiful, Professor Granger."

"Oh. Thank you, Neville." Hermione blushed, looking down to her roster of children's names. "It's one of the only nice outfits I packed."

"Well, it suits you."

"Hmph." Draco scoffed. "She could wear a brown paper bag, and it would look brilliant on her."

"Thank you, Professor Malfoy." Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "Oh dear."

"What?"

"I do believe you look a bit green." She gave him a small wink before sauntering off to check off students from her list as they prepared to set out, leaving Draco all alone next to Neville Longbottom.

"So what's your game?" Neville asked after a time, crossing his arms curtly.

Draco's response included a shrug and a wiggle of his eyebrows as he replied, "Well, I'm not going to give you a play-by-play of my evening, Longbottom. I have half a mind to know it'll be better than anything you plan to dish out."

"No, I meant, why did you ask her out?" He narrowed his eyes. "If this is all some sick joke to you-"

"The only thing that's a joke is your scuffed up shoes," Draco sneered.

"So, you actually like Hermione?"

"I asked her on a date, didn't I?"

"As a ruse to get back at me for pranking you with that stink bomb in your classroom last semester."

"That was _you_?" Draco had to fight back the urge to hex Longbottom here and now. He inhaled deeply, reminding himself that this was one of the most romantic holidays of the year, and he planned on getting into Granger's pants and/or mind somehow by the end of the day today. It was the only way to smooth over the anger he felt as he said, "Though I do attest that I was raised to think muggleborns are beneath me, Granger has a way of… making me forget about it. No, Longbottom. Don't flatter yourself into thinking that my asking Hermione out on a date has anything to do with you. If we're being quite frank, I'd rather you not be in the picture at all, but here we are."

"Yeah…." Neville nodded. "Here we are… And I asked her first."

"What are you? Five?" Draco crossed his arms. He briefly got a very unnerving thought; what if she were doing things with Longbottom too? Surely, Granger wasn't a slut. No… "Just out of curiosity, did she give you a list too?"

"List?" Neville scrunched his face up in confusion. "You mean the roster for the students?"

Draco smirked, his curiosity thoroughly satisfied.

* * *

"Miss Cornelia, might I have a moment?" Hermione asked as she took to the path to Hogsmeade with her students. Draco was up ahead, talking to one of his seventh year students about Quidditch, and Neville was somewhere behind, having a conversation with the Herbology club. Lidia Cornelia slowed her pace and hung back with her professor, away from the throng of students.

"Yes, Professor?"

Hermione smiled and whispered as they walked, "I just wanted to thank you about your discretion on the matter of last week…"

"Think nothing of it." Lidia smiled. "If I'm being quite honest with you, Professor, I look up to you a bit. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with the Headmistress, so I won't say a word."

"That's quite kind of you."

"May I ask you a question?"

"You may."

Hermione half expected it to be something pertaining to her and Draco or even her and Neville, but instead Miss Cornelia tugged on one of her pigtails and glanced up ahead, to where her desk partner Liam was laughing with a few of his mates. "How do I get a boy to notice me?"

She had to blink twice, as if it would help her better understand the question. But when it hit her that Lidia was asking her for advice, she smiled warmly and placed an arm around her. "By being yourself, Miss Cornelia."

"But what if who I am isn't someone that a boy likes?"

"Well, then he doesn't deserve you at all."

"How did you manage to get Professor Malfoy's attention?"

Hermione thought long and hard before she answered. "Truthfully, I have no idea. He and I live on different planes of being; he's a Pureblood aristocrat, and I… well, I'm just an educative, book-loving, free spirit."

"So am I." Lidia glanced up to Hermione, her blue eyes glistening with innocence and a smidgen of sadness. "But you're so pretty, Professor. How do I even begin to try to get a boy to notice me when I'm so… me?"

"Lidia…" Hermione stopped her walking, and her student fell in time, halting beside her. "You are a beautiful young lady. Don't let anyone ever tell you differently. If I had been half as pretty as you when I was your age, I would have been beating the boys off with a stick. It's just about how you carry yourself. For example." She plucked her wand from her back pocket and gave it a wave, undoing Lidia's pigtails and fluffing out her hair so that it framed her face in just the right way. "Oh, you look ever so much more confident. Now you'll have to beat the boys off with a stick -or better yet your wand. You know, my best friend Ginny is a whiz at a Bat Bogey Hex. I could teach it to you…"

Lidia giggled loudly, capturing the attention of a few people in front of them. Hermione saw Liam turn around, looking for his partner, and when his eyes fell on the unobservant girl they glazed over. Oh yes. Lidia was going to have a very nice Valentine's Day, indeed.

* * *

Hermione's date with Neville was rather adorable, trying out the new coffee shop just on the East end of Hogsmeade. There was a sample station set up with an array of serve-yourself one shot foam cups to try different brews that tasted of holiday flavors such as peppermint, pumpkin pie, and vanilla cake. About halfway through testing each flavor, they had to switch to decaf to prevent them from jumping out of their own skins. Neville was quite courteous, paying for everything and wiping the bit of froth off of Hermione's lip when she tried a butterbeer flavored brew. A few of the students (the ones that didn't have anything better to do) sat in the corner of the shop, giggling as they watched their Professors.

"Ignore them," Neville said when he caught Hermione's eyes glancing over to a group of sixth year Slytherin boys who were making kissy faces in their general direction. "For all you know, Malfoy could have sent them on a reconnaissance-search-and-destroy mission."

"You don't think he'd go so far, do you?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"Who knows? It's Malfoy."

"Fair point."

They both laughed, taking down a swig of their jelly-bean flavored coffee that had a purple hue to it. It was rather sweet for Hermione's taste, but Neville went so far as to order himself a full cup, coming back with a hot chocolate for her. They smiled at one another, sipping in silence, every now and then laughing awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Finally, Neville broke the ice.

"So, I want to thank you."

"For?"

"For going out with me today." He grinned at her. "I know that it was odd, me asking you for a date on Valentine's Day. But really, I hate being alone on it, and I'd rather spend it with some… someone beautiful like you, anyways." He dipped his eyes down to the ground. "I want you to know that even if you never go on another date with me, this was definitely worth it."

Hermione couldn't help it; she reached out her hand across the table and clasped it around his. "Neville, that is quite literally one of the sweetest things anyone has ever told me."

He grinned sheepishly, flickering his eyes back to hers. "W-Well, it's true."

"Neville? Hermione? Put a broomstick up my bum and call me Professor Snape, is that you?" A feminine voice squealed as the doors to the coffee shop burst open. Ginny Weasley burst in, hands thick with shopping bags. She ran straight up to them and threw her bags down before grabbing up both of them at the same time and hugging them ferociously. "Oh, it is you!"

"Ginny!" Hermione laughed, nearly spilling her cup as she swung her arm around her best friend. "So good to see you!"

"Yeah!" Neville piped in. "Wonderful to see you, Gin!"

Ginny pulled away, grinning between the two. "I was just doing a bit of lingerie shopping for… well, for Harry this evening, and I saw you two through the window and I just… oh, it's so good to see you two again!" She threw her arms around them once more, suffocating the life out of her friends. She flicked her wand towards a vacant chair, willed it over to their table, and took a seat between them. "Hogsmeade trip, then?"

"Yup." Neville smiled to her. "Want some coffee, Gin?"

"Oh. No thank you, Neville. Very kind to ask, though." She looked between them and smirked. "Wait… are you two on a date right now?"

Hermione felt her cheeks darken with blood, and for some reason, it was very hard to answer Ginny. Because, even though this was a date, admitting it out loud to her friend felt… obscure. Why was she so afraid to admit that she was on a date with Neville? How odd.

"I asked Hermione to accompany me for coffee," Neville offered, "And she said yes."

"Well, I'd hate to interrupt the moment." Ginny grinned, standing up. "I'll write you both tomorrow, I promise, and we should all get lunch on the weekend soon." She gasped, as if remembering something, and added, "Just so you both are aware, Ron is in Hogsmeade today too. In case you two weren't planning on coming out to anyone yet."

Hermione frowned. "One, you found us having coffee, Gin. Not procreating out in the square. And two, who gives a flying turnip what Ron thinks? I know I don't."

"Right, well, just trying to warn you," Ginny said seriously, giving her friend one final hug before blowing them both a kiss and leaving the shop. Hermione took a sip from her drinking while Neville stared at her.

"Everything alright?" she asked him.

"Just wondering what Ron's doing in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day is all," Neville replied quietly.

"Well, if Ginny is here that probably means Harry is too. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Neville. Honestly. And so what if Ron sees us together? He has no say in what I do or who I go out with."

"Right…" Neville's eyes fell into his cuppa. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be on your date with Malfoy right about now?"

"Hmm?" Hermione glanced up at the clock hanging above the counter and gasped. Was it five in the evening already? "Time went by quick, didn't it?"

"Always does when you're having fun." His face lit up in a smile. "I hope your date with him is rotten, you know."

Hermione laughed and shoved Neville playfully in the shoulder as she stood. "I'll see you this evening, then?"

Neville nodded, stood as well, and kissed her cheek. "Have fun, 'Mione."

"You too."

She left the shop and took off West, in the direction of the Square. She found Draco about ten minutes later, lying across at the edge of the fountain in the middle of the Plaza, nose buried deep in a book. How peculiar. She didn't know he read in his spare time. _I suppose it makes sense. He's an intelligent bloke_. He caught sight of her as she approached, slipping the book up to his chest and smirking at her.

"Have a nice playdate with the man-child?"

"Neville was quite a gentleman," she replied, taking a seat next to his head. Malfoy scooted back, resting his blonde head in her lap. "How was your afternoon alone?"

"Who said I was alone?" His gray eyes glistened up at her. She had to admit, the notion of having his head cradled on her thighs was quite adorable.

"Were you with someone?"

"No."

"Then you were alone."

"Hardly." He waved the book at her and gave a stretch, sitting upright. Hermione plucked the book out of his hand and scanned her eyes across the title: The Tale of Bartholomeus: Dragon Rider. "You're never quite alone when you've got a good book."

The faintest smile traced the edges of her lips. "Indeed. -So this is what you've been doing with your free time this afternoon?"

"Well, first, I had a look around," he told her, "Canvassed a few shops to plan out our evening. Once I did that, I purchased this book and here I am."

"You're nearly halfway done!" She exclaimed, impressed, as she found the page he was on with its page corner tucked like a doggy ear. "You really shouldn't bend the pages. It's bad for the books."

"They're inanimate objects, Granger." He jostled her in the shoulder with his own. "They can't feel."

"Yes, but you should take better care of them."

"So buy me a bookmark and I'll use it."

"Purchase your own bookmark. You're supposed to be wooing me, or don't you recall?"

He smirked. "Oh, no. I remember." He stood up, offering his hand out. "Come on."

"Do you think we might skip the coffee?" she asked as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I think I've just about coffee'd myself out for the next month."

He shook his head, a devious chuckle barreling out of his throat. "I think you're going to enjoy the coffee I have in mind, Hermione." She raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Trust me." His hand still in hers (not that she was entirely complaining), she let him lead her down past a fair amount of coffee and tea shops and to a corner alley, where a ladder was leaned precariously up the side of Zonko's Joke Shop. Hermione glanced around the alleyway, back towards the bustling crowds of students and loving couples and then in front of her to Draco.

"What are we doing back here, exactly?"

"We're about to go on our date, of course." He motioned to the ladder. "Up you go."

"Up?" She squeaked. "You mean for us to climb up on the roof?"

"Oh, don't tell me you're afraid of breaking a few rules," he chided, stepping close to her. "If I do recall, you and your little school chums were always so eager to break curfew."

Hermione smiled, recalling the first time Malfoy had caught her, Harry, and Ron sneaking off to Hagrid's their first year. "You also broke curfew a few times."

"Only to make sure you lot weren't causing mischief."

"Sure, Draco." Hermione laughed, stepping around him to the ladder. "Whatever you say." She decided 'what the Hell?' and passed his book back to him before climbing up the ladder. Draco went and braced it at the bottom, glancing at her rear the entire time she climbed until she was up over the edge of the roof. Zonko's had a somewhat stationary roof compared to the exaggerated slants of the others, and it made a perfect hideaway where Draco had spread out a plush looking quilt embroidered with the Hogwarts Sigil and motto, ' _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'_ (Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon). Set to the side of the quilt were two brown bags from Honeydukes, and a small, unopened basket. Hermione was impressed; had Draco Malfoy really gone through all of this on her behalf?

"I thought you said there'd be coffee," she jeered as he climbed up the roof next to her and they both shifted onto the quilt. Draco laughed to himself, fishing out something from the top of one of the Honeydukes bags before tossing it into her lap. Hermione picked it up and observed it to be a chocolate drizzled truffle. "I love truffles." She popped it into her mouth and a blast of coffee flavor tickled her tongue. Her eyes went wide, and she saw the satisfaction spread across Draco's face as he himself popped one into his mouth. They both enjoyed their truffle, neither of them saying much until they were done, to which Hermione said, "I have to give it to you. That was rather sly."

"I put the _sly_ in Slytherin," he teased, laying down across the blanket and tugging her down to fit into the crook of his arm. Hermione felt the rush of heat from his side as he tucked her in closer, arm around her shoulders, hand stroking up and down her arm with gentle ease. His free hand reached up, pulled a few more truffles from the bag, and set them on his chest for them to split. From this view, Hermione could look up at the fluffy white clouds circling Hogsmeade and could smell the different scents of the shops below. There was the distinct smell of corndog somewhere in the mix, but she was sure that she wouldn't find any in this magical place. They were a muggle food, after all.

Draco put a truffle to her lips, and Hermione bit into it, taking about half into her mouth before he pulled it away and finished off the other half. For a first date, things were going rather swimmingly. Hermione didn't know why she suddenly felt so at ease with him, looking up at the sky without that useless small talk that got you nowhere. He had managed to skip all of that in one go, opting for the snuggling bit (which Hermione wasn't going to complain about.) She supposed it did make sense. They had already shared an intimate moment that night in her bedroom when she had put her lips around his most private of areas… they could skip all that unnecessary bit of 'how much does this person like me' -because, deep down, they both knew that they were attracted to one another.

"This is wonderful," she whispered to him, leaning her cheek against his chest while she glanced up to his face. Draco tilted his head down in her direction, the roof slanting them in just the right way.

"Told you I'd dance circles around Longbottom's date." His fingers still slid up and down her arm, but a bit more slowly then, like he was memorizing every detail of her skin beneath his fingertips. It was a small gesture, but it made her ears burn and her stomach flip. Draco was quiet for a time before he spoke again. "Are you comfortable?"

"Quite."

"Hmm." He reached up to the other bag, fumbling around without seeing as he pulled out a set of heart shaped cookies wrapped in a paper box.

"You have a sweet tooth," she noted.

"What can I say? I love sugar." Together, him and Hermione opened the box and fed each other cookie after cookie, laughing when crumbs would fall on their face or the cookie broke apart in their hands. They broke into the basket, pulling out drinks to quench their thirst. Even though it was such a refreshing experience being around someone without having to make the idle small talk, she still wanted to know more about Draco Malfoy. So when they had finished the entire box, she leaned up on her elbow and grinned at him.

"Tell me more about your pureblood traditions."

His eyes were gentle -more gentle than she had ever recalled them. It was like she had finally hurdled over that wall separating him from being just like everyone else; human and vulnerable. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she said. "How do purebloods court one another? What are the rules? How did your parents bring up the birds and the bees to you?"

"The birds and the what-what?"

"Sex."

"Oh." He smirked. "You mean the hippogriffs and the dragons."

"Tell me that you just made that up."

"I wouldn't lie about something as terrible as that phrase." He sat up on his elbow too, turning to face her. "I don't remember exactly how old I was when they brought it up to me. I do, however, recall it was after accidentally walking in on them when they were going at it like banshees."

Hermione winced. "Perhaps that's too much detail."

"Believe me, that's nothing compared to what I walked in on. It's still engrained in the back of my skull." With a subtle skill known only to those who procured from Slytherin, he snaked his arm around the top of her hip and rested his hand along the sway in her back. "Anyways, my Father pulled me into his study the next day and told me that," he put on his best impersonation of his Father, exaggerating the lull in which he spoke, "When a man loves a woman, he must find ways of showing his affections in such a way that would bring about her satisfaction."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"That's a horrible way of explaining sex!" She threw her head back laughing, and Draco took the opportunity to pull her closer, flesh up against him. Her laughter died away, and when she brought her head forward again she was nose to nose with him. "Well, it's no wonder you're so determined to destroy my curriculum. I'm surprised you even lost your virginity at all."

"Really? Have you seen me?" He brushed his lips against hers, drawing out the moment. "When someone looks the way I do, do you honestly believe that there wouldn't be woman after woman throwing themselves at the chance to besmirch my innocence?"

"Is that what happened, then?"

His teeth came out and nipped at her lower lip seductively. "Professor Granger, are you asking me how I popped my first cherry?"

Her heart slammed in her ears, but Hermione kept a cool head as she dipped her tongue out and stroked it across his lips. Draco hissed a frustrated breath, but kept himself from forcing them into a heated kiss.

"We were both Prefects," he continued. "You remember the pool sized baths they had in those bathrooms?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she drew her face away from his for a moment. "Are you saying you lost your virginity in the Prefect's bathroom? To whom?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "To the only other Slytherin Prefect there was. Keep up."

"Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione grimaced. "You tossed it off to Pansy Parkinson?"

"Well, she looked good naked," he shrugged. "I didn't care much about her face. I was fifteen years old- cut me a bit of slack. If it makes you feel any better, she wasn't all that great."

"That didn't make me feel better at all, actually."

"Now look who's turning green," he smirked, pulling her closer yet again and bestowing a very attentive kiss to her lips. "If you want, I can pretend that the entire ordeal never happened. Born again virgin. Take me, Granger." He threw himself dramatically back and sniggered into his sleeve. Hermione burst out into a fit of laughter, smacking him hard on the chest. Draco continued to laugh, even adding, "B-But promise you'll… ahaha…be gentle!" She pinched him hard in the side, and he yipped, sitting upright. "Hey! That's not nice."

"I never promised to be gentle," she winked, poking him. Draco flinched -was he ticklish? Oh, this was brilliant! She started to poke and prod him, watching him squirm as he scowled between bouts of laughter. Soon, he retaliated, his fingers digging into her sides mercilessly. Hermione screamed, bursting into laughter as she threw her face into his chest. "I concede! Haha! I concede!"

"What was that?" He chided, "Can't hear you!"

"I concede!" she shouted.

"Damn right you do." He snaked his hands around her and pulled her on top of him, caressing her neck with the soft feel of his lips as he planted kiss after tender kiss. "Say it."

Hermione was lost in the sensation, and had to whisper to get anything out. "Say what?"

"Say I win."

"I win."

He nipped her harshly right underneath the curve of her jaw. "Now, now. No one told you to get cheeky." One of his hands slid down, down, down until it rested just at the hem of her pleated skirt. "You're welcome to tell me no if you don't want me to," he said as his fingers caressed the outer part of her thigh. "But I'd very much like to return the favor for the other night…"

Her eyes trailed over his face, searching for any dubious intents, and upon finding none, she asked herself a very serious question: did she want to consciously let Draco Malfoy into her knickers? Was she ready to take that step? On a roof? On Valentine's Day?

"If I said not right now," she asked quietly, averting her gaze, "Would this be enough?"

"If you're asking me if I'd be content with simply making out," he answered her, slipping his hand out from under her skirt to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, "I'd like to remind you that aside from a one night stand, I've been perfectly content with just my hand this last year. I could wait a bit longer… I get this nagging feeling the wait would be worth it." He gave her a smirk and a deviant wink.

Relief rippled in her stomach, and she nodded. "I can attest that it would be."

He released her then, allowing her to roll onto her back and snuggle into his side again. They attempted to eat the rest of the bag of sweets until their stomachs ached and their blood coursed through them in a sugar-induced high. Occasionally, they'd banter, but ultimately they basked in the evening sun and reveled in the fact that two Hogwarts Professors, who once detested each other, could share a Valentine's Day together and enjoy it immensely.


	10. A Fight

**Thank you all so, so much for the lovely reviews. Sam Wallflower asked how many chapters this might be -haven't figured that out yet. I obviously won't drag it out for forever, but I won't just cinch it up willy nilly. A very, very special shout to WayMay for helping me, yet again, with the editing! She also came up with the idea for... wait... I can't spoil it. I'll say at the end of the chapter. Thanks, WayMay!**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **~"Everything I'm Not" by The Veronicas**

* * *

"It's getting late…" Hermione whispered, watching the sun set on the roof of Zonko's, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared at Draco. He mirrored her, legs to chest, eyes set on hers as he casually laced and unlaced his fingers between hers. Hermione would feel a pang of guilt later for leaving Neville alone in the coffee shop, but, for now, her mind was only on Draco and how his skin felt so captivating against her own. It was a confusing time for the young witch; how had she gone from sexually teasing and simply wanting to explore her desires to feeling like a schoolgirl at the Yule Ball? She had counted on this date being a complete and utter disaster so that she might be able to make her decision on choosing to keep their relationship strictly professional as well as sexual. But she never intended on feeling something stir within her; a want for another date. Another kiss. Another cuddle session. Simply cuddling -wasn't that strange? She wanted to cuddle with an ex-Death Eater. This should have frightened her, but as she stared across from her Valentine's date, she couldn't evoke that emotion no matter how much logic she mustered in that brain of hers.

"We should go round up the children," he replied back to her, shaking her from her thoughts. He released her hand and carefully packed up their leftover sweets and empty bottles of soda into the basket. Hermione rolled carefully off of the blanket and began to fold it. They were silent for a time, set on the tasks at hand. The weather had shifted colder, but she only began to notice after she had stopped being pressed up against him. Goosebumps flitted across her flesh, and she gave a shiver as she descended the ladder first. Draco followed soon after, but not before tossing the blanket down to her and spelling the basket to her feet. As he hopped down the last step, he gave a smirk and leaned over, kissing her on the cheek. "So," he said, "I told you I could be a gentleman."

"Indeed you did." She laughed.

"Though I can't promise for in the future if you continue to wear skirts in my presence."

"Aaaand, he's back."

His smirk widened. "Did you think I was going to be a shining beacon of manners the entire trip? Oh, Granger, you don't know me at all, do you?"

"No." She lightly punched him in the arm. "But I think I'm beginning to."

"So are you going to go out with Longbottom again?" he asked, a tension set in the corner of his mouth as he continued to smirk. Boy, Hermione thought, was he ever jealous! "I could make it worth your while for you to say no."

"Really?" Her cheeks began to blush against the light of the street lamp.

He cocked an arrogant eyebrow and shrugged. "I could come up with a few ideas… would you like me to _list_ them off?"

Hermione was about to comment on his stunning display of _pun_ manship when a slew of giggles at the end of the alleyway, near the streets of Hogsmeade, distracted them both. Draco's head jerked in the direction, obviously irritated by the interruption. But what Hermione heard next would not only irritate, agitate, and frustrate Draco Malfoy, but herself as well.

"Alright, Cho. I'd like to see you come up with a better Quidditch fantasy league."

"That's easy! Oliver Wood, Keeper."

"No way! Wood was great, but he's no Barry Ryan."

"Ryan! Ha! That sod couldn't hold a candle to Wood, even when Oliver was just a novice at Hogwarts!"

Ron Weasley's laugh rang out into the cold air, tried-and-true. Hermione's chest clenched, and she unconsciously took a step back into the shadows of the alleyway. Draco noticed, because his gaze shifted between Ron, who was standing under the light of the streetlamp, and Cho, whose arm was wrapped tightly around Ron's arm, and Hermione, who had forgotten how to move or think or feel anything but a conceptual idea to bury herself in a hole somewhere never to see the light of day again.

"Laugh like I've just said something funny," he whispered to her.

"But you haven't."

Draco rolled his eyes. " _Now._ "

Hermione burst into loud, robust laughter that echoed across the alleyway, startling both Ron and Cho, and perhaps even Draco. But he kept his cool, smirking that infamous smirk and draping an arm over her shoulder. His lips grazed along her cheek, planting kiss after tender kiss as he pulled Hermione forward with him and into the light. He played his part well, and by the time Hermione realized he was attempting to save her pride by making Ron jealous, her body had already succumbed to the inevitable glaze of lust that spread through her when his face was so close to hers. She instinctively wrapped her arm around his middle and allowed him to strut them out to the end of the alleyway to hear Ron stutter out, "M-Mione?"

"Oh. Hi, Ron." The ease in which she spoke startled her; it was so carefree. "Hello, Cho."

Cho looked between Ron and Hermione as she tucked her raven colored hair behind both her ears and coughed out, "Hello, Hermione." Well, by the way she was acting, Cho had one of two ideas flying around in that head of hers: either Ron had discussed his falling out with Hermione to her in great detail, or Cho was holding a grudge for something that Hermione could scarcely recall. It had been ages since she had last seen the Ravenclaw beauty -she had aged well, barely looking a day older than her seventeen-year-old self.

Draco's grip around her shoulder tightened ever so slightly as if to prompt her.

"Oh. Right," she said quietly, and then a bit louder, "Ron, you remember Draco?"

Ron looked as if he were smelling his mother's burnt beet soup as his face soured and he grumbled out, "Hard to forget someone who puts the 'cock' in _cocky_."

"Did you pay someone to come up with that witticism?" Draco sneered. "Oh. Wait. You'd have to have _money_ to pay anyone for anything. So how's he paying _you_? In sweets?" He eyed Cho over. "You really should cut back, Chang. They're going straight to your hips and Weasley's fat head." Cho's cheeks tinted a shade darker, eyes trailing down to her thighs in horror.

"What the bloody Hell are you doing with Malfoy?" Ron addressed Hermione, scowling. "He's a twat!"

Hermione forced a smile on her face. "Draco, _dear_ , perhaps that was a bit uncalled for?" She pinched him in the side with her hand that rested on the side of his stomach, and it took everything in him not to react.

"Hermione, _sweetheart_ , I cannot help it if my observations are both witty _and_ true."

"Just ignore him," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "We all do."

"Not _him_." Ron narrowed his eyes and stepped up toe-to-toe with Malfoy. "Not _you_."

Draco gave an arrogant snort of a laugh. "I don't really think that's your call to make, Weasel."

"Ron," Cho said, tugging on Ron's arm, "Ron, let's just go-"

" _Him_?" Ron jerked his thumb up at Draco while giving Hermione a flabbergasted stare. "It's Valentine's Day, Hermione, not April Fools'!"

"The only fool here is you, Weasley, if you don't get that finger out of my face," Draco sneered, brushing Ron's hand aside with his own. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have prior engagements to attend to-"

All Ron heard was 'engagement' and just about blew a gasket as he shouted, "Engaged!? You're _engaged_ to this good-for-nothing, low down, rotten, arrogant, nasty-"

" _Prior engagements_ , Ron!" Hermione shouted at him, "Engagements! Not _engagement_! Oh, for the love of House Elves!"

Ron had already begun to peel off his evening jacket and striped beanie from his head, preparing to challenge Draco to a fight when Harry and Ginny came out of Zonko's, hand in hand. Ginny was the first to assess the situation, because she immediately dropped her bags, slipped her hand out of Harry's, and ran to Ron shouting, "Ronald Weasley, you put your jacket back on this instant!"

"Engaged!?" Ron squeaked, his voice cracking. He put his fists up in the air. "Come on, Malfoy. It's about time I knock the snot out of you!"

"Ron, you're making a scene!" Cho whined as a gaggle of students gathered round to watch the red head challenge their favorite Potion's Professor. "Why do you care?"

"Yes, Ronald." Hermione asked, stepping between Draco and Ron. "Why _do_ you care?"

Harry approached the group, exchanging glances with his wife and then with Draco Malfoy. His eyes lingered over Draco's arm around Hermione, and then the wheels in his head got to turning. He glanced around to the lot of them before saying, "So… what the Hell is going on here?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" Ron shouted as Ginny pulled on his arm, yanking him back a foot or two. "Ginny told me you were on a date with Neville today!"

"I _was_ on a date with Neville." Hermione brushed Draco's arm off of her shoulders. He gave her an incredulous look, but otherwise stood completely still, like a beautiful piece of background art amongst the chaos.

"I never took you for the slumming sort, Mione," Ron sneered.

That got Draco's attention. He puffed his chest out, exchanging places with Hermione and offering himself on the front lines of Ron Weasley's furious glare. "Say what you wish about me, Weasel, but the next time you insult Professor Granger I'll make sure to return you to your glory days of upchucking slugs for a week and a half."

"That _was_ bang out of line, mate," Harry muttered to his friend, stepping between the two men before their cock-strutting forced them to actually produce their cocks. He put a hand to each of their chests and backed them up a bit more. His eyes fell on Cho, and his eyebrows crinkled together. "Cho?"

"Hiya, Harry!" Cho waved gleefully. Ginny raised an eyebrow, looking from Ron to Cho, Draco to Hermione, Hermione to Cho, and finally Cho to Harry.

"Well, this just got interesting." She crossed her arms and stared at her brother. "When were you going to tell us you were taking Cho out for Valentine's Day?"

Ron's eyes jerked away from Draco's momentarily, giving his sister a 'butt-out' look. "We were just talking Quidditch."

"And Draco and I were just having coffee!" Hermione piped up, stepping up to Draco's side. "Honestly, Ron. You really should have your head checked out. Your temper is out of line."

Ron's face flared red, and he looked between Cho and Hermione before settling his eyes on Harry. "He said they were engaged!"

"No," Draco corrected. "I said we had prior engagements to attend to. We're Hogwarts Professors, and you're keeping us from walking the children back to the school." He motioned to the crowds of huddled teenagers. "So if you'd step your arse aside-"

"I don't give a damn about what you have to attend to, Malfoy." Ron skimmed his eyes over to Hermione, his face sunken and defeated. "I tried to call you."

"I know." She nodded.

"I owled you a hundred times."

"I know," she said, a bit quieter.

"Him?" He motioned to Draco with his head.

"Why not me?" Draco scowled.

"I'll give you two good reasons why. _Death. Eater_." Ron enunciated the last two words as if his life depended on it. The students around the courtyard began to gasp and whisper, while Draco's face went cherry pink. He narrowed his eyes, turned his nose up, and fidgeted on the spot. Ron looked thoroughly pleased he had managed to get under Malfoy's skin, which only erupted a ferocity in Hermione she wasn't aware she would feel until it boiled over like hot lava in Ron's face.

"Way to be a real tosser, Ronald. As if he doesn't have enough on his plate with teaching and being judged every day, now you've just outed him to his students." She cast her arms out, motioning to the frightened faces of her pupils. "You know- Hogwarts might have been the one place in the world that he might have felt welcomed! I'm pretty sure most of his students didn't know, but no doubt it'll be the gossip highlight by the end of the day tomorrow!" Her voice continued to grow louder as she stepped forward, squaring Ron up. "What you just did was contemptible and irresponsible."

Ron closed his unhinged jaw and swallowed down a hard lump in his throat. "But he _is_ one, Mione," he tried to plead with her.

"No, Ron. He _was_ one. Just like Professor Snape _was_ one. Have you forgotten already all of the sacrifices Severus Snape endured to protect Harry? You? Me?" She grew silent, the wind howling being the only source of sound for nearly thirty seconds before she spoke again. "Either apologize to Draco, or… or I'll never speak to you again."

"You want me to what?" Ron gaped at her. "You want me to apologize? To _him_?"

"Did I stutter?" Hermione did her best impression of Draco the night he asked her to have coffee with him; shoulders back, chin out, resolve set in her voice.

Ron stared at her, defeated. "No, Mione. You didn't." He glanced up to Malfoy and said through gritted teeth, " _Sorry_."

Hermione glanced back behind her shoulder at Draco. His mouth was parted ever so slightly, and there was a mixture of disbelief and arrogance as he set his mouth to a smirk and fought back the urge to laugh himself silly. "Well, well, well. All your chickens finally come to roost, Weasley?"

"Draco." Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Fine." Draco rolled his eyes. "Consider yourself forgiven." He snapped his fingers, and the basket they had abandoned flew across the alleyway and into his hand. He gave the entire lot of adults a fiendish nod of his smug face before he strutted away towards the Square, where they would meet Neville to walk the children back. A group of Slytherin boys followed quickly behind him, while the rest of the group of students stayed back to watch the rest of the madness unfold like terribly made origami.

"I can't believe you made me apologize to that ferret," Ron grumbled, scuffing his shoe across the pavement below their feet.

"I can't believe you outed him to all of his students," Ginny scolded. "He's an ass, yes, but he didn't deserve all that."

"She's right," Harry sighed, patting his friend on the shoulder. "They're both right, Ron. I think Malfoy's a git, same as you, but that doesn't mean we lower ourselves to his level." He turned his eyes on Hermione and smiled. "Despite everything, it's good to see you, Herms."

"Good to see you, Harry." She smiled at him and reached out. Harry met her in a hug, to which Ginny clamored on to, the three of them relishing in the heat and love of the embrace. Cho made a small cough from the side, and they parted to stare at her.

"Look, I don't know what just happened back there," Cho said, rubbing her hands together to fend off the approaching cold wind, "But I really should get going."

"Are you and Ron dating?" Harry asked suddenly, and Ginny narrowed her eyes. He looked to her. "What? It's an innocent question, Gin."

"I'm not sure what we're doing anymore," Cho said, dauntingly staring at the back of Ron's head. He spun around and gave a meek smile that did nothing but make her cross her arms and turn on her heels. She pushed through a crowd of students, shouting back, "Don't bother writing me, Ron!"

"Cho!"

"I really should be getting back," Hermione said, hugging Harry and Ginny again.

Ron turned around towards her. "Mione…" He took a step to her as if to hug her, but then stopped short and dropped his gaze. "I suppose you never want to speak to me again too, right?"

"I never said that." Hermione blinked. "Look, Ronald. I love you. You used to be one of my best friends, and I really wish that funny, kind hearted man would show back up into my life. But right now, with your attitude, it really is hard to stand to look at you." She approached him slowly and offered her arms out. "But you'll always be my friend. And I'll always forgive you when you mess up."

Harry and Ginny exchanged warm smiles with each other before looking to Ron with encouragement. Ron stared down at Hermione, red faced and embarrassed, and scooped her up in a hug that suffocated the breath out of her. "Can't… breathe…" she gasped, taking in the scent of chocolate and laundry soap that was Ron's smell.

"Sorry," he muttered into her hair, stroking the back of her head with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Mione. For everything."

"I know, Ron." She fought a tear in the corner of her eye, but it won out. "I'm sorry, too." They pulled away from each other, smiling. Ginny gave a small cough, catching their attention.

"So… did you really just come back from a date with Malfoy?" She threw her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the square. "I thought you were dating Neville?"

"I got asked on two dates." Hermione tried her best to sound casual. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell the git _no_ ," mumbled Ron.

"That's our Hermione," Harry smirked. "Ever the multitasker. -Though I'm with Ron on this one. You could have thrown Malfoy's dance card in the rubbage bin."

"He's… different," she told her friends, inwardly coming to a realization. "I honestly think we might have misjudged him."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right. And pigs fart colorful rainbows out of their arse cheeks." Harry burst out into laughter while Ginny giggled into her hand. Hermione smiled, but really didn't feel the message of the joke the way the others did, because deep down inside, she knew Draco Malfoy _had_ changed, if ever so slightly. If being up alone on a rooftop with him had taught her anything, it was that there was a kinder, softer side that he never allowed other people to see. There was a man beneath all of that pride that simply wanted to laugh and enjoy the moment, without the pretenses of what a Malfoy was supposed to be. And above all else, it made her decision to not engage in any further dates with Neville that much more solidified.

"I should get back," she told her friends, giving Ron another hug for good measure. "And I'll write you."

Ron nodded, relief filling his blue eyes. "Yeah, Hermione. Do that."

She waved her friends off and pointed at the groups of students to follow her. They did, and together they met Neville and Draco under the lamp post beside the water fountain in the Hogsmeade square, surrounded by bustling students. The sun was setting, and it was time to go back. Neville gave Hermione a warm smile and a wave before leading the students on with his personal lantern he had conjured up. Draco hung back, arms crossed as he let Hermione approach him while the students filed on behind one another in the path back to Hogwarts. When she was close, he gave her a smirk and said, "Did the reunion end in laughs, tears, or bloodshed?"

"A bit of all three, I'd say." She waited until Neville was out of eyesight before she leaned forward and buried her face in Draco's chest. He relaxed, letting his arms give way from their cross over his chest, instead fitting them around her instead. He said nothing, but simply waited for her to say whatever was on her mind. "I've come to a decision."

"Yeah? A decision on what?"

"On who I'd rather date more."

"Me, obviously."

She nuzzled her face into his chest a moment longer before peeking her head up and staring at him. "You really are that cocky, aren't you?"

"I'd love to show you just how cocky I can be," he teased with a wink.

"Alright." She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to meet him face to face; he had to still slouch a bit for it to work. "Tonight, then."

"Tonight… what?" he asked, skeptical.

"Whatever you want. Something from the list. Your choice."

His eyes went wide, and he glanced around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "You're serious?"

She nodded. "Ron was an ass."

"More like the hole rather than the cheeks."

"Draco."

"Yes?"

"Don't interrupt me."

He shrugged. She continued.

"Ron was an ass, and what he said was out of line. And I know that you're not all that bad of a person, when you get down to it. Even if…" She glanced downwards, towards his left arm. Draco's eyebrows knitted together, and she quickly continued as to alleviate the tension. "-But that's not all you are. I know that now. And… I'd like to see where this goes. If it goes anywhere at all."

Draco mulled over her words, wrapping his arms tighter around her as a gust of evening wind blew across their faces and shook them down to their bones. Finally, he said, "I thought you said you wanted to 'wait'."

"Well, I'm not offering you the entire list, am I? One thing. -But it has to be from your wish list. That's it. And the offer is only good for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll change my mind."

He allowed a smirk to play across his pale lips, and he grinned mischievously. "Alright, then. Anything I want from the list."

"That's what I said." She paused. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

He shook his head and peeled her off of him, laughing. "Guess you'll find out tonight, won't you?" He looked up to the last of the students as they filtered through the streets and nudged for them to follow. "Well, get a move on then." He pushed her forward playfully. "Let's hurry this trip along. I don't much like waiting."

* * *

 **Is that a lemon scent I smell? Oh my, it is practically citrus-like up in here!**  
 **Thank you WayMay for the idea that Cho should be the one that Ron is on a date with. I text her this morning and was like 'help meeeeeee' and she graciously did. LightofEvolution asked if I might put the trio together again in this story, and look! Here they are! Awkward circumstances, but totally awesome. Please leave a little review in the box and I'll see you next chapter, lovelies!**

 **~A.  
P.S. LightofEvolution is coming out with an adorable and FUNNY Dramione called "Branches" that she will be posting soon. I was her beta reader, so if you have the time, go check it out! *hearts* **


	11. A Picture

**Alrighty, LEMON ALERT. LEMON ALERT. You've been warned.**

 **Also, please go check out my friend LightofEvolution and her new work "Branches" - a pretty awesome start to a Dramione. XD**

Please make sure to leave a review?

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Champaign and Wine" by Otis Redding, but I prefer the version by Michael Grimm**

* * *

His words were simple: " _Pick out something seductive and meet me in my dorm in one hour_." He refused to give her more to information, simply stating that he would clue her into his desire when she arrived. So, Hermione rummaged through her dresser, tossing aside her worn out underwear and finding the one set of panties she owned that actually accentuated her bum; a pair of pastel pink lacy boy-shorts. They were a present from Ron years ago, but she hadn't gotten a chance to wear them once before they had parted ways. Tonight, she thought gleefully, they'd actually get some use!

She didn't have a bra that exactly matched, so she settled on her cobalt strapless, opting that the colour would look stunning in combination with the pink. She threw them both onto the bed and went to her wardrobe. Since she had come to Hogwarts to teach, and not to seduce, the pickings were slim. The winner was a white, long sleeved sweater made of thin material that Ginny had gifted her for Christmas last year. It was oversized, comfortable, and best of all hung just over the curve of her hips while also showing off her shoulders and collarbone. She didn't think she'd ever be able to muster the courage to wear it in public, but... She'd have to thank the Weasleys someday for attributing to a scandalous outfit for... well, for what, exactly? Her curiosity was hungry for satisfaction, and she longed to know what awaited her behind Draco's closed door.

She slipped out of her clothes and tossed them into the hamper before she left to the bathroom for a quick shower. She might not know what to expect, but she wanted to be prepared for anything from that wish list. As her thoughts strayed to that list, she thought of his preferences when it came to how a woman presented herself, debating on if she should continue with her landing strip she was accustomed to, or if she should be completely bare beneath those boy-short panties. Would he even be looking beneath her knickers? Was she expecting too much too soon from the prudish pureblood? Why was she hoping she was completely wrong about him?

She decided to keep her small landing strip; she kept it trim and tiny, and it did make her feel more of a woman. After her shower, she dried her hair quickly with a spell and shimmied into her seductive outfit just as a knock came upon her door. Her eyes went wide, and she quickly pulled her robes on, buttoning them with haste. She had already planned on wearing them to get to Draco's dormitory, so this wasn't the worst of it, but she still didn't like to be rushed. When she finished her last button, she forced a smile on her face and strolled over to the door, pulling it open. Of course, it was Neville on the other side of that door. And of course, he was looking at her with an innocent grin that made her insides lurch with guilt.

"Hello, Neville," she smiled.

"Hey, Hermione." He rubbed the back of his head. "So... I'm just going to come out and ask you -are you alright?"

She blinked once, confused. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"I overheard a few of the students on the way back, and they were talking about how Malfoy and Ron almost came to blows."

Wow, word travelled fast, didn't it? "It wasn't anything like that. Ron was just his overprotective self. He saw me with Draco and... he just didn't take it well."

"I see..." Neville's voice trailed off.

Hermione knew that if there was ever a time to let him down gently, it would be now. Also, it wouldn't hurt to get this off of her conscience so that she didn't arrive at Draco's dormitory whilst leading Neville on. "Look, Neville, I wanted to talk to you."

"That's never a good sign," he said, still holding his smile on his face, though it was a bit sadder. "What's on your mind?"

"I just..." How could she explain that, even if she weren't interested in Draco Malfoy in the slightest, there still wasn't a chance that she felt anything else for Neville as more than a friend? He was great. He really was. He was kind, and funny, and sweet, and gentle... but she just wasn't attracted to him the way that she knew would be validating. Today's date had told her as much. Despite how perfectly wonderful Neville Longbottom was, he simply wasn't her cup of tea. And that was alright. But she would need to say it in a way that wouldn't offend or tear apart their friendship. It was all such a delicate situation. "I want to thank you, first off, for the lovely date. I really had a wonderful time."

"Yeah, me too."

Darn it, that didn't make this any easier. "And you're a great man, Neville. You're sweet and funny and simply a pip." Her chest deflated when she finished with, "But I think that we should maintain our friendship and continue to work together as Professors for the school."

"Ah. I see. The whole 'letting him down easy' bit." Neville's face dropped, but he didn't seem angry. A bit sad, maybe... "Was it because you saw Ron again?"

Hermione's eyebrows lifted up, and she couldn't help but laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. "No, Neville! Heaven's bells! No..." She shook her head, grinning. "Ron has nothing to do with it. The only thing I want from him is friendship."

"So it's Malfoy, then." His shoulders slumped, and he took a step back. Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to find a better way to explain it to him that Draco had nothing to do with her decision either. Not really. Maybe a bit, but he wasn't the deciding factor.

"It's because I think our friendship is too valuable to tarnish it. If we didn't work out, it would destroy what we have -and I think that's very special, don't you?"

Neville looked pensive, nodding in response. His eyes were distant, lost in his own mind no doubt. "Yeah. -Yeah! No, I get it. Really." He reached down, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it tenderly. "You're a good soul, Hermione. And I do value what we have. Should you ever change your mind..."

"I know where to find you." She blushed, despite herself, and patted his cheek. "Thank you for being so understanding."

" 'Course, Mione." He bowed to her and turned to leave, slipping his hand from hers. He looked a bit shaken as he took to the staircase, leaving Hermione to close her door gently behind him and toss herself back onto the bed. Her heart was beating wildly out of the nervous tension that hung thick in the air. She wasn't accustomed to turning away potential lovers, but... Neville wasn't a prospect she really thought she could explore her darkest fantasies with. And while he would make a wonderful husband to some witch or muggle woman someday, he just wasn't the bloke for her. Not that she even knew if there was one for her. This tryst with Draco was headed into uncharted territory, and she didn't know where she would end up at the end of her sexual conquest.

But for now, she supposed, it didn't really matter.

She counted to three hundred before she hopped off of the bed (feeling sure that this was enough time to make sure Neville wouldn't spot her leaving), slipped on her shoes, and took off on her adventure down the staircase leading to her bedroom and even further down the staircase that would lead down to the Slytherin dormitories. Draco's room was the only one at the end of a long hallway curving off the direction of the boy's dormitories, and she made it to his door with minutes to spare from her hour time limit. She strummed her knuckles across the carved wood engrained with serpents, and it took him only seconds to answer. He was dressed more casual than she had ever seen him in a grey, long sleeve shirt made from cashmere and a set of lounge pants. His eyes were set with a sense of playfulness as he swung the door open and smirked at her.

"Professor Granger," he said, "Do come in."

* * *

From the outside, Draco might have looked cool, calm, and collected; but on the inside, he was an inferno of apprehension and nervous fodder. Seeing her at his door gave him the overwhelming realisation that this was real, and she was truly willing to let him decide her fate tonight. That sort of power would have been so enticing to any Malfoy but Draco, who, as a child, had revelled in the power trips he had abused until he had burnt them into ash and embers. He was still as selfish as he ever had been, but now there was a nagging conscience that made life's decisions difficult.

He watched her slip into his room, and he shut the door behind her. His hands shook, but he didn't think she had taken notice; she was busy admiring his room for the second time. He gave her a once over and thought that perhaps she should really say something. Or did she expect him to? This was all so... new. "If that's what you consider seductive, we really should have a talk." Way to go, Draco. Be a real ass. That'll get her to fall in bed with you.

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder, a teasing smile draping across her lips. He was relieved to find that, even behind her demeanour, he could see the nervous tension written in her eyes the same as him. It made it easier for him not to tuck tail and run when she reached up to the top clasp of her robes and began to undo button after button. She turned to face him as she let her robes slip down her arms -and oh, fuck. That was... she wasn't wearing any shorts, was she? And that shirt... it really should be removed. Soon. Would she be offended if he ripped it off of her? Probably...

"This more what you had in mind?" she asked, slipping out of her shoes to stand before him. For a man who had been raised to despise her kind, Draco couldn't find a damn thing wrong with that 'filthy blood' running through that enticing body of hers. How could something packaged so wonderfully ever be considered 'dirty' or 'tainted'? Growing up, Draco had been taught that mixed-blood was an injustice to the magical workings of nature. Now, all Draco could think was that perhaps he should write a letter to her muggle parents and thank them for giving her such fine genetics... he just would never tell his Father he had written to muggles...

Draco nodded, firmly clenching his jaw so he didn't say something cruel again. He swallowed hard, willing his knees to keep from shaking. It was odd to think that any woman could make him nervous, but here he was, timid and overwhelmed when he should have been confident. Beautiful women were nothing new to him -so how was it that Hermione Granger had bested his nerve? He took a step forward, poised to put on his best show as he paced around her, arms tucked behind his back, eyes hungrily scraping over every bit of skin he could see. Maybe if he could find something wrong with her, it would make her more approachable. But there wasn't a thing wrong with that smooth skin, or those slender legs, or that flat stomach, or the subtle curve of her breasts beneath that sweater. Her neck was graceful, her eyes were like pools of chocolate, and her lips looked like they should be on his cock right about now.

Fuck. How was he hard already? They hadn't even started.

"Are you going to tell me what you picked?" she asked him, her voice quiet.

Draco flickered his eyes up to hers, and he gave a saucy smirk. It dawned on him that, even though she was a beautiful minx who intimidated the shit out of him, she also had no idea what he planned to do with her. It gave him a new-found confidence, and he tucked his finger under her chin to force her face upwards. She stood perfectly still, melting beneath his touch. He could feel her warm breath tickle his hand as he stared into her eyes for what seemed like forever. Then he said, "I want to photograph you."

Her eyes were unreadable for a time. The only movement that gave her away was the way her eyebrows crumbled together as she assessed his words. Finally, she said, "Photograph me. I don't remember that being on the list."

He smirked. "Bring the list out and see for yourself."

Her body stiffened, but she still stood there with her chin resting on his finger, ever the diligent little witch. "Alright." He released her, and she went over to her robes to untuck the list from one of the pockets. As she bent over to retrieve the scroll, Draco took his time admiring her derriere. Merlin, look at those cheeks. They deserved a good whipping, they did... -The small voice from his pureblood days swatted him on the back of the head, stating that those thoughts were improper. The larger voice that stemmed from his deviant side told him that those ass cheeks would look even better with wax dripping down them.

Hermione rose up, unrolled the scroll, and began to sift through his wish list column. She scowled and brought the list over to him. "I don't see anything on here about photographing anyone."

"No?" He tried to hide his unscrupulous smile as he said, "Let me see." As soon as the list was plucked out of her hands, he made his way to his desk in the corner of the room, picked up his favourite quill, dipped it in some ink, and scribbled a note on the suggestion line before she could even begin to comprehend what he had done. When the last letter had been drawn, it finally dawned on Hermione what he was doing, and she gasped and ran across the room.

"That's cheating!" She reached for the quill in his hand, but he yanked it out of her reach and held her back with one arm, smirking all the while. "You can't just add something to the list!"

"What? It's been there the entire time, can't you see?" He laughed, scooping up the parchment and pushing it into her hands. "Right there."

He watched her eyes scan over the words, and he saw the blush that procured from her after reading what he had written. She repeated the words out loud, solidifying them. "Have Hermione Granger pose seductively for me in any way I imagine while I take pictures of her." Her fingers tightened around the parchment as she found the courage to meet his eyes. "You... you wrote my name on this."

"Yes?" He didn't really understand why that was so significant.

"You could have put down 'have a woman pose seductively for me,' but you didn't."

Oh. Well, that was an easy explanation. "I don't want to have just any woman pose for me. I want you."

She bit down on her lower lip, staring at him for a few moments before she nodded, set the list onto his desk, and asked him, "So... do you even own a camera?"

"I do." Before he crossed the room to retrieve it, he stopped just short of her, leaned down, and kissed her on top of the forehead. He wasn't entirely sure why he did it, but it felt right. He strolled over to his dresser, rummaged through his sock drawer, and brought out a small, hand-held camera that was worn and very old. He presented it to her, pushing out between them so that she could take it. She did, and she let her fingers trail over the metal design and wide lens. "It belonged to my grandfather," Draco stated simply. "He enjoyed photography, and when he passed, he willed it to me."

"Do you enjoy photography?" she asked him, still clutching it between her fingers.

"When I find the right muse," he replied, giving her a small wink. "I never was allowed the luxury of finding a hobby outside of what my father wished of me when I was young. Quidditch was a sport to be taken up by any Malfoy, and I did enjoy it. But as time passed, I've found art, in many forms, to be a valid way of... letting the demons out." He took the camera back from her and without warning clicked the shutter-release button. Hermione gasped and swatted him on the arm.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

He grinned mischievously. "Maybe."

"I wasn't ready!"

"Well, sometimes the best photographs develop from that." He laughed, a bit freer now that he knew she wasn't going to give him a shit time about his wish-list preference. "Look, I'm feeling generous, which isn't often, so I'll make you a deal. For every picture you let me take, I'll answer a question of yours about my pureblood traditions. Sound fair?"

"And how do I know that you're not going to blackmail me with these photos later?"

He would have felt insulted if he didn't already know that it sounded exactly like something he would do. But that was not the fate for these photos. "Because these photos will belong to me. I don't want to share them with others because the way I have you tonight..." He was just as shocked by his words as she was. "I don't want anyone else to experience you this way. That's for me. And this... is between us. That's it. So even if this is our last night of debauchery, I can always have this."

He knew he had hooked her with that, and before long Hermione's shoulders went slack and she chewed on her thumb. "Fine."

Click.

"Hey! I didn't even ask a question!"

"That's not how this works, Granger." What had he been so nervous for? Having a beautiful woman in his bedroom was easier than he thought. "I'll answer a question of yours when you give me the photograph I desire. So no slacking." He reached out with his free hand and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "Now why don't you be a good little Gryffindor for me and sit on the bed." Even though it was phrased like a question, it was most definitely a demand. One that he expected to be fulfilled. Hermione surprised him when she bit down on the tip of his thumb gently and gazed up at him with lustful eyes.

"How do you want me on the bed?"

His cock twitched in his pants. Fuck. Fuckedy-fuck-fuck-fuck. This was going to be so much hotter than he had anticipated. "On your knees, of course."

She trailed her tongue around the pad of his thumb before stepping away from him and sauntering to the bed. He took a photo of her as she went, forever capturing that luscious ass in mid-stride. And thanks to the fact that this was a magical camera, he wouldn't just have the image, but the movement of her hips swaying as well. He forced himself to contain the grin that wanted to spread out across his lips, and instead opted for a more serious, casual expression as he watched her climb onto his bed and sit before him on her knees, arms tucked between her legs in front of her like she was a vassal awaiting her superior's request.

"Bite your lip for me," he whispered, not caring to pull the camera up to his eye line. He'd done enough photography to know exactly how the picture would turn out if he tilted the camera ever so slightly to the left and held it at chest height. His younger self had taken to the streets of Hogsmeade and photographed people in their daily lives for practice. He was glad he had taken the time to get to know his strengths, but he much rather enjoyed the intimacy of this setting instead. Hermione Granger, the straight Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations student who loved nothing more than to bury her face in a book, was going to pose in risque photographs for his viewing pleasure. Willingly. And only for him.

Click.

"My turn," she said, dropping her seductive pretences and falling back into her usual personality of an insufferable know-it-all. "How do purebloods ask one another out on a date?"

He shrugged. "Normally, the dates are set up by the parents. But my father, for example, genuinely wanted to date my mother. Even when my grandmother tried to set him up with a sizeable amount of other women. So, he asked her to accompany him to a cotillion his parents threw for his seventeenth birthday."

"A cotillion? That's very old-fashioned."

"Is it?" He took a step closer to her and brought the camera up to his shoulder. "Lay back on the bed, Hermione." There was something so powerful in saying her first name. He watched her as she did as she was told, her hair falling back against his bedsheets. The white sweater she wore pulled up as her arms went above her head, revealing the dip in her stomach from her belly button and all the way to those panties he really wished would get tossed away. One step at a time, he reminded himself. He noticed the shy way she held her thighs together and took a photo to capture it. "What a good girl you are."

He watched as a blush crept up her cheeks as she soaked in his words. She didn't move from her seductive position as she asked her second question. "Is it common for purebloods to lose their virginity before marriage?"

He took another photo to preserve her blush, and then another that caught the way her ankles fidgeted under his stare. "Not for the women. Pansy giving up her virginity to me branded her on a lower level amongst the other boys in our year."

"But it's not the same for the men?"

He smirked, enjoying this sensational curiosity she possessed. "First, I want you to spread your legs for me." She frowned, and he lowered his camera. "You want your questions answered, don't you? Spread your legs and, just for good measure, put your hand on the waistband of your panties while your other hand touches your breast through your shirt."

"That's rather specific."

"I know what I like." He brought the camera back up and bit down on his lower lip as he watched her perform for him. Her hands were so small, but they were the perfect fit for her to appear to touch herself for his photographs. "Make it believable, Hermione. Or I won't share my knowledge with you."

His words frustrated her, but she did as she was told and fondled her own breast while her other hand played with the hem of her panties. But it wasn't enough that her body performed -he wanted to capture her face enjoying the act as well. Carefully, he crawled onto the bed between her legs and with his free hand reached out, cupping her other breast with careful diligence. The contact of his hand made her mouth part in a delectable 'O', and he snapped a picture quick while it was still so very new. Then he set the camera to the side of the bed for a moment, making a point to set it upright and keep it within reach when he saw his next opportunity to get a stunning shot. He leaned over her, resting on one of his elbows while his other hand still grasped the mound of flesh beneath her bra and sweater. His lips began a trail of tender, provocative kisses up and down the length of her neck as he kneaded her through her shirt.

Between kisses and bites, he answered her. "Pureblood men aren't expected to lose their virginity at a young age but, should their desires get the best of them, they are to maintain a sense of discretion when choosing someone to... practice with."

"P-Practice?" Hermione gasped as he found the shell of her ear with his teeth and nibbled.

"Words from my father." He trailed his hand down to the hem of her shirt and rested his palm against her stomach, feeling her ragged breathing. "When he found out I broke the status quo of waiting until I proposed to someone, he made it very clear I was to take the opportunity to learn what it took to please a woman." He dug his fingers ever so slightly into her stomach, earning a tempered sigh from her. "He told me that if I were to sow my wild oats, I was to only do it with those with proper lineage."

"So... why... why are you doing this with me?"

He bit down harshly on her neck, reached over, snatched up his camera, and quickly snapped a picture of her moaning softly at his action. Then he climbed off of her, stood up from the bed, and snapped another of her in her lust-filled daze. Her legs were now wide open for him, and he could see the trail of wetness soaking her panties. Merlin, he hadn't even touched her bare, and she was still so wet for him. He took two more pictures before he spoke again.

"I'm not one to follow tradition, Granger. At this point, with the way you look right now, I could give a shite less about 'proper lineage'. Now, how about you take that sweater off and let me see what you're working with, hmm?" Hermione did exactly that, pulling the fabric up and over her head to toss it to the floor. Her breasts were small but full, and they were hidden beneath a very pretty blue brassiere that he wished he could tear off with his teeth. "Now I want you on all fours, facing the wall."

"So when you're courting someone, is stuff like this off limits?" She rolled over onto her hands and knees, ass up in the air, presented to him like a fine wine. One that he would very much like to sample, given the opportunity. He stalked his way over to the side of the bed and pressed his palm into her back, swaying it and arching her ass up even farther than it had been. He pulled her arms out forward so that she was spread like butter on toast. If she didn't maintain the perfect amount of balance she would fall. And that kind of tautness in her muscles was exactly what he had been looking for. He slid his hand down to the base of her spine, right at the tailbone, before he pulled his hand up into the air and with a firm smack came crashing down on one of her ass cheeks. Hermione groaned softly, pushing her ass into the air to balance herself from the force of his blow. Draco, satisfied, went back over to the foot of his bed and snapped a photo of her round ass in all of its splendour.

"It's absolutely off limits," he whispered to her, taking photo after photo. "Not to mention very taboo. Risque photos?" He tisked. "Any pureblood woman I know would have died from mortification. -But you're not like those cows, are you, Hermione? You're different. You're special." Not to be too kind, he barked out another set of commands. "Stay just the way you are, but I want you to reach back and pull your panties down so that I can see what you have to offer me."

"Draco..." she whispered to him, fighting the urge to glance back. One of her hands went up to the top of her underwear and began to tug them down.

"Slowly," he commanded, "Yes, like that. Such a special gift you have..." He snapped a photo and then watched her bring her panties down over the curve of her buttocks and finally -finally, revealing herself to him. The lips of her pussy were smooth, pink, and coated with slick arousal. A thousand different images flitted through his mind: taking her from behind; making her sit on his face while he lapped at her; shoving his cock, his fingers, anything he could get his hands on into that dripping cunt. He wanted to make her scream and cry and moan for him the way no man had ever made her before. His want for Hermione Granger grew stronger than he could have ever anticipated.

He snapped a photo.

"Fuck..." Draco grasped the camera as if it were his only tie to reality. "Touch yourself for me."

Her fingers slipped underneath her and between her legs, and with a timidness known only to someone who had never done something like this before, she began to play with herself in front of him. Draco's finger pressed the shutter-button over and over again as he stepped closer, watching her fingers trail along her folds and slip over the nub of her pretty little clit. He wanted to reach out -to touch her the way she was touching herself. As if she knew exactly what was going through his mind, she moaned softly and muttered, "Touch me, Draco."

Needing no more prompting, he climbed onto the bed behind her, set his camera down, and reached out with shaky hands until they grasped her ass cheeks. Hermione still played with herself beneath him, and he watched for a moment as she slipped a finger in and moaned. Her ass exposed to him, he trailed his eyes over her cheeks, her lovely, puckered asshole, and her delicious pussy just begging to be licked. Before his appetite for her consumed him and he leaned down and bit down on one of her ass cheeks, eliciting a groan as Hermione lost her balance and fell face first into his pillow, her fingers slipping out of her as she grasped the bed. Her ass went up higher, and Draco scooted down onto his back with vigour, enjoying the sight before him before he ripped her underwear away from her legs (guess she'd have to go commando after this, because there's no way those panties were ever going to sew back together), dove his tongue out and tasted her.

The taste of Hermione Granger was like the ocean. It was the perfect balance of ocean water, salt and fresh air, and if Draco could, he'd bottle the taste up and sell it to the highest bidder. Because -damn. That's how good it tasted to him. And by the way she was moaning unintelligibly into his pillow, she liked the way he danced his tongue across her clit. His hands, now finding the will to stop shaking, reached up to her hips and brought her down on top of him to sit on his face. He'd always wanted to try this too -to smother himself beneath a woman the way he'd read about in those erotic stories he wasn't supposed to know about tucked away in his Mother's closet.

Hermione sat up straighter, realising that this is what he wanted, and gave in. She brought her knees closer together to frame his face and sat up straight, head tilted back and hands finding their way behind her to unclasp her bra and discard it to the floor with the rest of her clothing. Draco watched, tongue trailing up and down her wet cunt all the while, as she set her breasts free into the soft lighting of his bedroom. Oh, Merlin. Look at those nipples. They really deserved some adoration as well! Some other time, he supposed, because right now was dedicated to Hermione's mouth-watering pussy. Draco closed his eyes as to not distract himself and gripped her ass cheeks to tilt her forward and better into his mouth.

"F-Fuck..." Hermione gasped.

Draco pulled away from her clit to taunt her. "Now now, Professor. Language." He lapped at her nub, gently bestowing a few kisses here and there to keep things interesting.

"Oh, fuck your language, Draco. Mmm... God... yes... eat me out... fuck..."

Ooh, who was this version of Professor Granger, and how had she stayed hidden for so long? Better yet, how could he keep her around? He chuckled quietly, leaving a trail of kisses down her lips and up to the mound above her nub. "Someone's enjoying herself."

"Don't stop," she whimpered, her hands brushing up against her breasts and down her stomach in a frantic need for contact. "Please, Draco. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He returned his lips to her, kissing and flicking his tongue, and tasting her until he could feel her begin to move across his face. He pressed his tongue against her clit with more pressure, letting her roll her hips lightly and fuck his mouth. Ever since he was a teenage boy, this had always been a fantasy of his. Blaise Zabini had mentioned this erotic tale of the time he had gotten Lavender Brown off after she had been dumped by Weasley. The way he had described it made the act sound dangerous and powerful. If a woman was so comfortable with you to sit on your face and let you eat her like she was your last meal, you had achieved a sense of power in the vulnerability of that woman. But it was interesting, he noted, that as he lapped at her juices and fucked her with his tongue that he didn't feel very powerful. If anything, she was the powerful one sitting above him, controlling him, eyes set heavy on his own with one command: make her come.

And he was so willing to comply.

His tongue darted faster against her clit and lips, and he licked her with a determination that could only be met by the roll of her hips and her guttural moans. He wanted to make her come. He wanted to bring about her happiness by letting her experience that orgasmic high she had bestowed upon him the night she had sucked him off. He wanted to be the one to do it.

He groaned softly, the vibration of his voice dancing on his tongue, and, without warning, sent her over the edge. Hermione came undone in his mouth with not a scream or a moan, but a soft, gentle sigh that sounded more content than anything he'd ever heard escape her lips. Her hips stopped rolling as she gasped for breath. Draco continued to lick her until he was thoroughly satisfied that he had ridden out her orgasm. In a post-ecstasy high, she rolled off of him and landed on the silky sheets of his bed onto her back. Draco smirked, climbed on top of her, and shoved his tongue deep into her mouth, encouraging her to taste herself. Much to his enjoyment, her tongue met his with eager zealous. Their mouths battled for a few happy minutes, but when Hermione went to reach for Draco's still prominent bulge, he grasped her wrist and brought it around to the side of her head.

After a few lighter kisses, he broke away and shook his head. "Not tonight, Granger. Tonight was for you."

"But..." She sounded almost disappointed.

He grinned down at her. "You told me one thing from my list. I received two. I'm quite satisfied, Hermione. Believe me."

She reached up, stroked a bit of hair out of his face, and planted a tender kiss on his lips. "You continue to surprise me, Professor Malfoy."

He broke out into a laugh. "Yes, well... I suppose I've got to keep you on your toes, don't I?" He brushed his lips against hers. "Besides, we've got so much more time to explore that list, don't we?" He snaked a hand down her side and rested it on her hip. "And you still owe me one of your own."

She yawned and smirked up at him. "Your list is my list, Professor."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Hermione planted a delicate kiss on his nose. "I want to try everything on your list, Draco. That's the only thing on mine."

He tossed himself over to his side and pulled her into the crook of his arm. "Do you want to stay the night?" he asked. "We could get an early start on that list."

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "We're not on vacation here, Draco. We're professors at Hogwarts. We have an obligation of professionalism to maintain."

"But tomorrow's Sunday," he pouted, unsure why the idea of her leaving his dorms tonight made his insides squirm.

"Maybe some other night." She leaned up, kissed his cheek, and began the annoying task of putting her clothes back on. The last bit she found were her ripped panties, and she gave him a look that said she very much held him in contempt. "I only wore these once, you know."

"They served their purpose," he laughed. Hermione stuffed the ruined underwear into her robes pocket, slipped on her shoes, and strolled back over to the bed. Draco leaned up, relishing in her goodnight kiss. "When do we get to do this again?"

"Hmm..." She thought about it. "Let's see how well you behave in class this week."

"Oh, come on." He groaned. "Professor Malfoy isn't nearly as fun as Deviant Draco! Don't put my sex life into the hands of that impish prude!"

"Maybe you should try merging them into the same person," she offered, strolling to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast?"

"Yeah, yeah, tomorrow then. But it won't be me. It'll be him. And I won't be responsible for any arrogant quips he makes."

"Keep him in line, then. Goodnight, Draco."


	12. A Meal

**"Can't Stop The Feeling" by Justin Timberlake**

* * *

Draco awoke Sunday morning with the sensation of happiness down to his bones, which, to him, was peculiar. It wasn't that he normally woke up in a horrid mood. Quite the contrary -on most days, he felt like there was nothing to look forward to when he dragged himself out of bed to greet another day. But today, after the events of last night still tingling his brain like a cold ice cube, he couldn't help the smile on his face.

* * *

Hermione didn't want to drag herself out of bed Sunday morning when her alarm went off -the dreams she experienced begged to take prominence over everyday activities such as brushing teeth or eating breakfast. They were wonderful little flitting images that were soon to be lost like butterflies scattering off of a flower petal. Hermione's consciously reached out to grasp onto any memory that she could, and what she got was silver-gray eyes above her while she moaned below.

* * *

Neville Longbottom couldn't sleep hardly a wink the night before because he couldn't shake the awful feeling that Hermione setting him in the 'friend zone' had something to do with Malfoy. And to any intelligent Gryffindor, this would make one worry. When his students had told him about the confrontation with Ron and Malfoy, Neville wished that he had spotted it so he could have put a stop to it before it began. It was obvious that Malfoy had at least tried to spare Hermione's feelings by pretending to be with her to make Ron jealous, so was that the reason why Hermione had turned Neville down the same night? Because she felt as if she owed Malfoy something? Or did she genuinely like him? And if that were the case, there was the obvious question: why?

He forced himself out of bed before his alarm called to him, settling on dressing quickly and going down to the Great Hall to start snacking (an old habit of his he did when he was nervous). He was one of the first Professors to arrive, aside from the Headmistress herself, so he took his normal seat at the table and began to toss all of the carbohydrates on his plate like they might be his last meal. He buttered and jammed five pieces of toast and finished them quickly, and by the time he had set to work on his morning muffin he spotted Malfoy approaching the table. His normal sneer was plastered across his overly-pointed face, but there was something in his eyes that Neville hadn't seen before; a sort of self-satisfaction that had replaced Malfoy's deplorable nature. He plopped down in his chair beside Neville (since when did Malfoys 'plop' down onto anything?) and reached for an entire bowl of strawberries.

"Professor," Malfoy lulled, giving a curt nod to Neville. This caused Neville to raise his eyebrows. When did a Malfoy start off their morning greeting others without a snarky quip?

Neville cleared his throat. "Pr-Professor..." He bit down into his muffin, forgetting about the fact that he was trying to maintain his diet. As if the toast wasn't going to do him in! Heh. Well, a cheat day every once in a while was acceptable, yes? "You seem... cheerful this morning."

"And you seem talkative." Malfoy bit down into one of his strawberries. When he finished chewing and swallowing, he looked over with side eyes at Neville, who couldn't will his face to turn away. "What's your deal?"

"I don't have a deal."

"You're staring at me."

"Well, you seem... different."

"Nonsense. -Now how about you mind your own business? Or are you just looking for an excuse to oggle me? Sorry to disappoint, but I don't play for the other team."

"You know what? Nevermind. You haven't changed a bit."

Neville went back to staring at his muffin. No, there was definitely something different about Malfoy, but he just didn't know what it was -yet. It wasn't until Hermione approached the tables that he noticed the change; Malfoy's back straightened, and his ears darkened with a pink tint. His face stayed the same, normal sneer, but Hermione's ascent to the Professor's table evoked a sense of rigidness from Malfoy. Where before he had taken to glancing around the room leisurely, he suddenly was very interested in his bowl of strawberries.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Hermione said confidently to the two Professors. Neville smiled up at his friend, but Malfoy ducked his head and muttered, "Morning, Professor."

"Hello, Hermione." Neville tried to put on his best manners, thinking that perhaps the reason Malfoy and Hermione were acting so different around each other might be that she had dumped him as well? Yeah, that would make sense! After all, why else would he be averting his gaze at someone so beautiful that she made the room spin? Yes. That had to be what was going on. His disposition was lightened almost instantaneously, and he found the will to pick up a bowl of cantaloupe to replace his muffin.

* * *

Draco, try as he might, couldn't bring his eyes to meet Hermione's. He knew that if he did, he would make some sort of deploring comment or sexually charged quip that would give them away immediately, and she had said that they would need to maintain a sense of professionalism in their work lives. She didn't comment on it, to his relief. Maybe she knew he was trying to stay good in hopes of another night like the last?

"Did you boys sleep well?" she asked, much to Draco's disappointment. Was she trying to test him? He couldn't be responsible for day-Draco, or 'Professor Malfoy' as he worded it in his head. Professor Malfoy had been raised by the old ways, where socialising with muggleborns at a table was simply unacceptable. He didn't want to be that kind of person anymore, but old habits died hard.

"Not as well as I would have liked," replied Longbottom.

Damn it. Now it was his turn to say something. Think, Draco. Something that would be both in-character for Professor Malfoy and still maintained that sense of Deviant-Draco. Why was this so difficult? "Slept fine." Yeah, that didn't work, but it was better than saying, 'I spent most of my night developing pictures and then having a good wank to your photographs.'

"That's good..." Hermione reached over across the table, plucked up a bowl of blueberries, and began to pop them into her mouth leisurely while pulling out a thick book -one that Draco recognised at once because it was -his- book.

"Doing a bit of reading, Professor?" he asked, trying to hide the fact that out of the corner of his eyes he was watching her lips with fascination.

"Some poor soul left this book in my possession, so I thought I might at least give it a go."

"Poor soul, hmm?"

"Tragic, really."

"I think the only thing tragic is that you haven't returned it to that said 'poor soul'. He -or she - probably is missing it right about now. Stealing is against the law, you know."

"I never stole it. Perhaps if he -or she- took better care of their books, I might be more inclined to return their book to them. But, as it were, they take to bending the pages to mark their place. And everyone knows that's bad form."

"Bad form is keeping a book that doesn't belong to you."

Neville's head looked between the two. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm missing something?"

"Because you are." Draco popped his head up and looked over to Hermione directly for the first time this morning. "Give me the book back, Granger."

"Professor Granger," she corrected him. "And no. I don't think I shall. Learn to treat your books with the proper respect."

Despite having spent a memorious romp in his bedroom last night, Hermione had still managed to work his last nerve down to the marrow of his bones. His eyes narrowed, and he tossed a strawberry at her. It bounced off her shoulder and onto Longbottom's plate. Hermione gasped, turning her head towards him, half in shock and half in a disbelieving smile. "Really now, Professor Malfoy. That's highly unprofessional."

"You know what's unprofessional? Keeping someone's book when you know perfectly well they weren't done with it." He grabbed up another strawberry and hit her square in the chest. He could see her struggle to repress a laugh as she picked up one of her own blueberries and hit him in the nose. "Oy!"

"Don't dish out what you can't receive back."

"You know what I'd love to receive? My book." His playful side -the one that he had tried to repress- came bubbling up to the surface of his psyche, and he snatched up three strawberries at the same time and tossed them at her. One of them missed their target and rolled off the table, tumbling down to the floor towards the Slytherin table.

Hermione laughed unexpectedly and stood up, her entire bowl of blueberries clutched in her tiny hand. "Is that the way you want to play it?"

"That's exactly the way I want to play it." He glared at her challengingly, though he couldn't suppress the small smirk that framed his mouth. He crossed his arms and gave her a 'what will you do now?' look.

She shook her head, laughing, and crossed behind Neville's chair and then directly behind Draco. He tried to keep himself from laughing along with her. Then she did something unexpected -she dumped the entire bowl of blueberries down upon his head. Draco's eyes went wide, and so did Neville's. The other Professors at the table careened their heads in their direction, confused. Draco slammed a hand down on the table, stood, and turned around to her. "Alright. Have it your way then." He reached behind him, picked up the entire bread basket of morning toast and dumped it on top of her.

"Professor Malfoy!" Headmistress McGonagall called out from her seat a few chairs down, but her voice was distant thanks to the blood pulsing in his ears from the adrenaline. The thrill of doing something so devious made his body shake with joy. This was why he had been placed in Slytherin in the first place; his cunning, competitive nature always got the best of him, and he loved anything that could challenge him. And today, it was in the form of a Gryffindor-alumni with curly brown hair and a mischievous grin.

The entire Great Hall watched as the two professors glared each other down, though they didn't know that inwardly, the two weren't actually angry with each other. They wouldn't know it by the scowls and stiff postures, but this sort of taunting was getting both Professors a bit hot and bothered. Hermione, eyes still trained on Draco, said out of the corner of her mouth, "Neville, hand me your cantaloupe."

"But I haven't finished with it!" Neville tried to reason with her, but she thrust out her hand.

"Longbottom, I'll give you a week's worth of sweets to hand the bowl to me," Draco said, taking his eyes off of Hermione for a split moment. It was all the moment she needed -she pushed him out of the way, grabbed up a bowl of oatmeal, and poured it atop Draco's perfectly combed hair. Not to be outdone, he snatched up a muffin, crumbled it up, and smashed it into her hair, giving a satisfied chuckle.

"Professors!" Headmistress McGonagall leapt up from her chair and brandishing her wand to separate the two. But before she could flick her wrist, a first-year boy from the Gryffindor table stood up and shouted, "FOOD FIGHT!"

The room lit up like fiendfire as students young and old snatched up the closest bit of food in front of them and began to toss it across the table at their counterparts. Cheers, taunts, and laughs echoed the Great Hall, and as food began to fling into the air around them, Draco exchanged a heated smile with Hermione and burst out laughing. Knowing that they would pay for it later, they joined in the fight. Draco ran over to the Slytherin table, brandishing his wand, and encouraged his House to send their entire arsenal in the direction of the Gryffindors. Hermione sent up a barrier spell quickly as the food went careening its way towards her own House so that it smashed up against the spell and fell to the floor in a thick line of morning pastries and fruits.

Other Professors, much to Draco's shock and delight, began to jump in, encouraging their own houses and abandoning their posts at the Professor's table. Longbottom still sat perfectly still in his chair, mouth agape and confusion written across his brow. By the time Professor McGonagall was able to wave her wand and command the room silent in a flurry of magical wind that caught everyone's attention, the Great Hall was now a wasteland of bread, fruits, pumpkin juice, milk, oatmeal, and pastries. Everyone stopped mid-throw to bring their attention to the Headmistress, who had one hand rested on her hip, and the other holding her wand with exact precision. "Professor Malfoy! Professor Granger! In my office this instant! The rest of you -clean this up! Now!" Her voice barked out commands that sent the entire Hall in clean-up mode immediately.

Draco jumped down from the top of the Slytherin table, covered head to toe in food and drink. He searched around until he found Hermione, not too far away from the Gryffindor table, soaked in pumpkin juice. He flashed her a wink before heading off in the direction of the exit doors, where Professor McGonagall was already waiting for them. As he approached her, he put on his best 'I'm dreadfully sorry' face and humbly bowed to her. "My apologies, Headmistress, I-"

"-Save it, Mister Malfoy." McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Your Slytherin charm won't work on me today. -Professor Granger, do hurry up."

Even though Draco and Hermione were full grown adults, following behind Headmistress McGonagall on their way to her office made them fall in sync with their teenage demeanours. Draco had never gotten in trouble as a Professor before -what kind of punishment did a Professor receive for starting something that was usually reserved for rowdy fifth years?

Hermione walked along beside him, eyes wide and completely horrified that she had let herself go. While Draco felt free and liberated, she no doubt felt guilty and was probably already inwardly reprimanding herself for cutting loose for a split moment in her perfectly organised life. He looked around the hallway to make sure they wouldn't be seen, and up to the Headmistress to make sure her eyes were forward before he reached out and squeezed her hand. Hermione's head jerked up his direction, and he just wriggled his eyebrows to humour her.

'Settle down,' he mouthed to her.

'I can't believe I did that!' she mouthed back.

Draco released her hand and set his eyes forward again as they walked up the spiral staircase that would lead to McGonagall's Headmistress office.

"Strawberry toffee," McGonagall said to the gargoyle, and it stepped aside to lead them into her study. Draco and Hermione took the two chairs across from the Headmistress's desk, while she took her seat in a large, plushy chair on the other side. Her lips pursed together as she stared between the two, her half-moon specs dangling dangerously off of her nose. She folded her hands together and stared at them for another two minutes before she spoke. "Well? What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

Hermione burst out into words, fumbling over them in an anxious fashion. "Headmistress, I apologise. I have no idea what came over me. I would never intentionally start a food fight in the middle of the Great Hall, and I know it was extremely unprofessional, but please, please don't sack us over this. I have so much more to teach the children, and I promise it will never happen again-"

McGonagall jerked her eyes in Hermione's direction, shutting her up. Slowly, she trailed her eyes over to Draco. "And you, Professor? What have you to say?"

Draco knew that he should be professional, but, Hell, he was already in hot water. "She started it."

"Oh!" Hermione threw her hands up and turned to him. "The nerve of you, Malfoy!"

Draco shrugged. "See what I have to put up with?"

"Enough!" McGonagall traded off glaring between the two of them. "I don't care who started it or even what started it. What I care about is what kind of example you are setting for the students of Hogwarts. What on Earth was going through your heads? -No, scratch that. I don't even care to know." She unfolded her hands and strummed her fingers along the top of her desk. "In all of my days as a student, Professor, and Headmistress, I don't believe I have ever witnessed such a terrible display of professionalism by a teacher."

"Surely that can't be right," Draco quipped, but shut is mouth when McGonagall trained her eyes on him.

"Are you going to fire us?" Hermione asked timidly.

McGonagall's eyes softened as she turned them to Professor Granger. "No, my dear. I don't plan to fire you. But I do expect the both of you to experience repercussions for your outburst. -As such, one hundred points will be taken from both of your representing Houses."

"A hundred points!?" Draco growled. "That's a bit excessive, Headmistress!"

"Did I, or did I not, see you encourage a line of Slytherin seventh years to bombard the Gryffindor table with breakfast assortments?"

Draco coughed, bowing his head. "That might have been me."

"Honestly, it feels just like you two are back in my classroom again, sans Mister Potter and Mister Weasley." She reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I don't care what kind of personal vendettas you have against each other, but I expect it not to reflect on your works as a Hogwarts Professor. Should I find you two causing mischief in front of students again, I might very well have to find replacements for the both of you. So, as I was saying, one hundred points will be taken from your represented Houses, and you will report to Argus this weekend to relieve him of a selection of his caretaker duties. Don't expect to have a pleasant weekend, Professors, unless you enjoy cleaning gutters and tackling dust bunnies. Now, get out of my office before I decide to hex the both of you."

"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione said, bowing her head. Draco gave a curt nod, arose from his chair, and began towards the door. His counterpart quickly followed, and when they were down the spiral staircase and out of earshot, Hermione socked him hard in the shoulder, making him wince. "You are an absolute cod."

"Am I?" He smirked.

"You tried to blame the entire thing on me!"

"Well, if we're being technical, I only blamed you for the _beginning_. I never denied my role."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Crumbs still stuck heavy in her hair and on her skin, thanks to the pumpkin juice. "I told you to act professionally when we saw each other again."

"I didn't try to snog you or anything."

"No. You just started a massive food fight."

"You started it, remember?"

"You threw a strawberry at me."

"One strawberry. _You_ dumped an entire bowl of blueberries on _me_."

"You were acting like a cod!"

"Should have given my book back." He tucked his hands behind his back and began to stroll away. Hermione stayed properly on his heels, glaring daggers at him.

"Sometimes you make me so...! Oh, you make me so...!"

"So _what_ , Professor?" He spun around on his heels to face her. " _What_ do I make you?" His face was ever so close to hers so that she turned a pretty shade of pink and let her mouth part slightly.

"Stop looking at me that way."

"What way?"

"You know what way. Like you want to kiss me."

"Is it that obvious?"

He watched her pink cheeks fluster to scarlet. "I asked you to remain professional. So, would you kindly try to reel yourself back in for five minutes and extend me that courtesy?"

"Of course, Professor Granger." He gave her a tiny wink, tucking her soggy hair behind her ear. "Have a pleasant day? I know I will." He trailed his fingers down her jaw and to the tip of her chin, where they lingered for a moment before he withdrew his hand completely. "And I expect my book back on my desk by the end of the day." He flashed her his most deviant smile before setting off towards the Great Hall to help finish cleaning.

In Draco's opinion, this week was already off to a brilliant start.


	13. A Secret

**~"Sophomore Slump or** **Comeback Of The Year" by Fall Out Boy**

* * *

"You want me to what?" asked Draco, sitting in his office to drink his afternoon tea. He'd been exceptionally good these last few days, Hermione thought, considering that on Sunday he had started one of the largest food fights in Hogwarts history. Wednesday had arrived quickly, and tomorrow they would be teaching the fourth years about the male sexual organs, which is why she had asked him to lead the lesson. His eyes looked at her with a sense of tender mortification, and he set his jaw to 'tense.' His tea had been on its way to his lips, but now it hung precariously in the air, rocking back and forth as his hand began to shake. "I… That's not my department. Appendages are your cup of tea, Hermione, and right now you're interrupting me from mine."

"Yes, but I don't have a male appendage, do I?" she asked, taking a seat on the edge of his desk and staring down at him with pleading eyes. "And besides, I think the classroom would benefit from a male perspective on this."

"Why don't you ask Longbottom?" Draco sneered, giving up on his tea and setting it back down on its tea tray. Hermione thought it was rather cute that he had a tea cup and tea tray for afternoon tea (did people still do that?) She just drank tea out of mugs.

"Because I'm asking you," she stated simply, shrugging. "The students look up to you as someone they respect."

Draco snorted a laugh. "Not lately since Weasley outed me. Half of my class admires me and thinks I'm 'cool', but the other half have already written letters to their parents in concern. McGonagall pulled me into her offices yesterday to discuss it."

"Oh." Hermione frowned. She had no idea that it would come to that. "I'm sorry. Ron can be such an ass sometimes…"

"Sometimes?" He raised both of his eyebrows, leaning forward. "He's an ass all the time, Granger. You simply turn a blind eye because he got into your knickers a few times."

"That's not the reason I forgive him. It's because, despite his rough exterior, he has good intentions. Like you, most of the time."

"Don't insult me."

"How was that an insult? It was a compliment -or have I forgotten some ulterior meaning to the word?"

"I'm not rainbows and sunshine and butterflies," he told her. "Don't lump me into a category when you don't understand me."

"Are you saying Ron is rainbows and sunshine and butterflies?"

"And shit and sprinkles and red hair too."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll even organise what you'll have to say. All you'll need to do is read the words."

"What part of 'no' do you not comprehend?"

"Do this for me, Draco. Do this and I'll..." Hermione smirked. "I'll let you check off another thing on your list."

Draco appeared to attempt a nonchalant stare, but she could see the excitement glistening in the pupils of his eyes. He scratched his nose, shrugged, and said noncommittally, "You already promised me if I stayed good I'd get something from the list anyways. -But, I mean, I suppose I could give it a try. For the sake of education, and all."

She jumped up from her seat on his desk, grinning. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't be getting soft on me."

On her way to the door, something whizzed by her head and smacked into the wall, drawing her attention. She stared down at a paper ball and then back to Draco. "Did you just throw a paper wad at me?"

"In your general direction," he replied, shrugging. "Why don't you read what's on it?"

She reached down, retrieved it, and undid the crumpled mess to find a message. 'Dinner next weekend?' Hermione couldn't suppress the smile that painted across her lips as she turned back to him and said, "I'd like that."

He smirked back to her. "Good. Now get out of my office and quit pestering me."

* * *

Lidia Penelope Cornelia had never been a normal child. When her friends had traded lipgloss for secrets and secrets for gossip, Lidia always found herself buried deep within a book, uncaring about the outer workings of the world. Books were her escape from her parents' divorce, from the fact that she had yet to develop breasts, and from the fact that as Professor Granger set up the projector from across the Great Hall, they would be discussing penises.

Penis. It was such an odd word, wasn't it? Add an 'N' and an 'E' and you had 'Pennies', which was an enjoyable topic. Currency would always trump a talk about the male appendages in Lidia's book.

Speaking of things with a penis, her male counterpart, Liam, nudged her in the arm as he sat down beside her, saying, "Hey, Lid. New book?"

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Miss Granger recommended it a few weeks ago. It's actually a lot of fun." She blushed violently when she realised that Liam was staring at her. "I... um..."

Valentine's Day, they had pal'd around together for the better part of the afternoon with a bunch of Liam's friends. But by the evening, Liam had made up some terrible excuse of getting food poisoning and removed himself from the group. Lidia had followed him, concerned for his health, but Liam had surprised her by pulling her into the alleyway of Zonko's and snogging her silly. Later, she had asked how his stomach had felt, and he had told her that his stomach was fine and that he knew she'd follow him if he made an excuse to leave. It had been his only way of getting them alone together.

Now it was nearing the end of the week, and Lidia had no idea where she stood with Liam, aside from the fact that she liked him and he was an excellent kisser. The topic today wouldn't make their relationship progress any quicker -if anything, it could decline Lidia's newly found sex drive altogether. The only thing that made the lesson rather exciting was that Professor Malfoy would be leading the discussion instead of Professor Granger. Malfoy was far too old for Lidia, she knew, but she still was mature enough to admit that she did fancy his appearance. Who wouldn't? Even the brilliant Professor Granger had melted to his seemingly soft white-blonde hair and colourful smirk. It gave Lidia hope that one day she, too, would blossom into a glorious swan the way her favourite Professor had.

"So... penises," Liam smiled.

"Penises." Lidia nodded.

"I have one," said Liam.

"Do you? I hadn't noticed." She gave him a deplorable smile.

"That's just cuz we've been friends for too long," he nudged her in the shoulder. "Look, Lidia, I've been meaning to talk to you about Saturday."

Her heart froze. What if Liam meant to let her down gently? She had seen the way Professor L had moped around the castle after Professor Granger had friend-zoned him hard. Would Lidia also soon possess the slumped shoulders and a vapid stare of a scorned hearted individual as well?

"Oh, look!" she said at once, pointing up to the podium, "Professor Malfoy's about to start. Perhaps we should listen? Here, I've brought extra parchment. You can have some of mine..."

"Lid, I really think we should-"

"Oh. And here's a quill too." She sat down her extras in front of him, cut him off with a crisp smile, and turned her attention to her Potions Professor in an attempt to stop Liam from saying whatever it was he had to say. She didn't need to deal with it right now, in any case. This was school, and she was here to learn.

"Lidia-"

"Hush now, Liam."

She watched the handsome professor clear his throat, grey eyes searching around the room. He tugged at his collar, gave another cough, and said something to Professor Granger off to the side that Lidia couldn't hear. She watched as Professor Granger rolled her eyes and nudged over to the parchment on the podium, giving Professor Malfoy a dangerous glare. She could read Granger's lips on the very last bit of her sentence. '-Think of the-' what was that last word? Lids? List? Little?

Professor Malfoy turned back to the students, a heavy resolve set in his eyes. He narrowed them, utterly perturbed, and began to read out loud from the parchment provided in front of him. "Good evening, students. Tonight, on the subject of se-sexual education, we will be discussing in length -oh, really now, Granger. That's just a bad joke waiting to happen." He smirked, a bit more confident. "In length the topic of the male anatomy, including the..." He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, relaxed his face, opened his eyes, and continued, "Penis, scrotum, and... the testicles." He gave out an anxious sigh and rubbed his chin. "We will also be discussing the topic of ere...erections and semen." Professor Malfoy straightened his posture and nodded to himself as if he were telling himself 'well done, you did it.'

"Thank you, Professor Malfoy," said Professor Granger, clapping. "Now, if I could have everyone's attention to the projector, we will first start off by showing a diagram of the penis. I'd like everyone to pay careful attention to the head, as it will differ from some of you based on circumcision."

Lidia tried not to blush as she turned her attention to the screen, where a drawn diagram of what appeared to be a sad looking snake hung next to an egg sack. She had been fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on how you looked at it) never to have seen a penis in real life. She wondered what it felt like? Was it squishy? Firm? How big was Liam's in comparison to the other boys? Simply for scientific inquiries, of course...

A boy at the Slytherin table raised his hand, catching Lidia's attention. Oh goody. It was Will Black. That stupid, arrogant little shit had been besting her at Potions for the past three exams. Professor Granger called on Will, and he smirked as he asked, "What if mines bigger than the diagram?" He glanced over to a few of the Slytherin girls and winked.

"Excellent question," Professor Granger said, obviously not getting that Will was just trying to exploit a rumour that might or might not be true. "Professor Malfoy, perhaps you'd like to answer Mr Black's question?"

"Look," stated Professor Malfoy, "Don't think I know what you just did there, Black." Ha, so he caught on, did he? "What I can say on this subject won't be worded as eloquently as Professor Granger's medical jargon, but here it goes: the size of the broomstick isn't as important as the way you handle it -if you get my meaning." The students giggled, including Lidia. "And if you treat it with indignity and try to shove it in any broom closet you find, you're going to end up with bent bristles and dents in the handle. So handle your broom with care, would you? -What I mean is -stop flying it at every pretty girl you see, or you're going to end up with a sexually transmitted disease or a baby. Keep it in your pants, gents."

* * *

Hermione stared, half mesmerised and half in bewilderment, at Draco and his inventive explanation. When she had asked him to lead this lesson, this wasn't what she had in mind. She'd need to reel it back in quick if she was going to maintain a sense of educative stance on the subject of penises. "Erm... thank you, Professor Malfoy, for that... imaginative speech."

Draco turned his eyes on her and smirked. "Care to take over, Professor?"

That little ferret. Had he really just given one of the most awkward speeches in order to get out of talking about a penis? He had one, for Godric's sake! Hermione knew that she preferred Draco on his own time compared to the Professor he was during the day, but this just added to the theory that he could be bipolar. "Honestly," she muttered to him as she took to the podium, "If you think that display gets you anything off of the list, you're sorely mistaken."

The look she procured from him was priceless, and she set her head high as she addressed the class. "Back to business, then."

"Actually, Professor, I think I -will- go ahead and lead the class..."

"Oh?" She smirked. "Very well. We can do it together."

* * *

"Heh, she said 'do it'," Liam chuckled.

Lidia gave him a venomous glare. "Seriously, Liam, grow up."

* * *

After Hermione spoke in vigorous detail about the penis, it was time to answer questions, much to Draco's dismay. He had done fairly well at getting back in her good graces, touching on small details with her. The silver lining was that it was much easier to discuss a penis than a vagina to a group of students simply because he had one. There were those that took their education seriously, asking about the true details of puberty stages and when to expect hair 'down there', but then there were others, like Liam Killingsworth, a pudgy little sprout who spent way too much time with voyeur Lidia Cornelia, who just wanted to get a rise out of the classroom.

"My question is for Professor Malfoy," said Liam. Draco gave him a curt nod to continue. "My dad said there're all sorts of potions that can be used when it comes to the bedroom, including enlargement potions. Is that true?"

Draco gave an amused smirk to Hermione and then raised his eyebrows as if to say 'well, you wanted me to get involved, didn't you?' He turned his eyes on Liam and tried very hard not to embarrass the shite out of Lidia in the process. "There's a potion for almost everything, Killingsworth. Though I should add, that if not brewed properly, a potion meant for enlargement can turn into an all out catastrophe that would send you to the infirmary. So," he scanned his eyes around the classroom, "Unless you're experienced in potions at the degree that I am, which you aren't, I wouldn't dare attempt it if I were you."

"I heard that there's a spell that can make it vibrate!" shouted Renaldo from the Slytherin table. Quickly realising he spoke out of turn, he added, "Is that true?"

Draco couldn't recall a spell that did that. Though, if he ever found it, it could be quite fun. He hastily glanced over to Hermione, who shrugged as if she didn't know either. Well, if she was as stumped as he was, then it probably didn't exist. "Not to my knowledge, Renaldo."

Sarah Tumlin was the next to raise her hand. "What happens if a boy has problems performing?"

"Performing? It isn't a circus act," Draco quipped.

"I think she's asking about... performance issues... with holding an erection," Hermione muttered to him.

"Oh. Is that all?" Draco looked back to Sarah. "Most likely he's nervous. But if it happens time and time again, a man should really see a Healer to make sure he's getting proper blood flow. If it is something as simple as circulation, again, there is a potion to help. But any number of things could be a factor, including diet, hormones, stress, high blood pressure, depression, and smoking cigarettes, amongst others." He tilted his head in Hermione's direction, relishing in her impressed stare. In a quieter tone, he told her, "I might have taken to reading your textbook in lieu of not having my book back in my possession."

Yup, he thought confidently. That was most certainly going to earn him back in her good graces. He was really getting the hang of this 'sex talk'. Despite being raised to never bring this sort of stuff up in public, he found it rather liberating to share his knowledge with students. Interesting. And it wasn't as scary as all that, was it? Just a bit of medical jargon every once in a while...

He was - _so-_ getting something off of that list this weekend. He'd just need to find an opportunity amongst the cleaning duties they'd been assigned to as punishment for acting like two rowdy teenagers.

* * *

When class ended, Lidia was busy gathering up her parchment and quills when Liam tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Come on, Cornelia. Talk to me."

"What's there to talk about?" she asked meekly, averting her gaze. "We haven't talked about it at all this week, and that's been going over rather well, hasn't it?"

"Lidia." He placed his hand on top of hers. "Are you going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"I like you." He blushed and turned his head towards the table. "I mean... I really like you. Like, like-like you, you know?"

Lidia couldn't suppress her smile at his words. "Well, I suppose that does make sense considering you did snog me into the wall behind Zonko's. But I didn't know if maybe you were just doing that because it was Valentine's Day."

"Nah." He chanced a glance at her, and when his eyes caught hers he nearly melted into them. "I mean, I was just afraid that because we've been friends for so long, you might put me in the friend zone the way Professor Granger did to Professor L."

Lidia grinned. "You're no Professor L, Liam."

"Am I Professor Malfoy, then?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "No. You're just Liam, and I rather like you just the way you are."

"Awesome. You wanna go steady with me then?"

Lidia giggled into her hand, looking up to Professor Granger, who seemed to be beaming as she talked to Professor Malfoy. It was all thanks to her that she'd shown enough confidence for Liam to notice. She owed her favourite Professor a fruit basket or whatever you got a teacher you were thankful for.

"Liam," she told him, "I'd love that."

* * *

That night, Hermione received what would surely go down as her most awkward knock-at-the-door in her career. Lidia Cornelia met her on the other side, eyes wide as saucers and a blush across her cheeks. "Pr-Professor Granger... could you... could I ask... I-I really don't know how to..." The young girl was still dressed in her school robes, though her tie was missing and a few of the top buttons of her robes were undone. And come to think of it, her hair was a bit dishevelled as well...

"Slow down, Miss Cornelia. What on Earth has got you so uprooted?"

"It... It's personal, Professor. Please, please don't tell anyone that I've told you."

"Alright?" Hermione wondered what exactly her prized pupil had gotten herself into.

"It's Liam... he... oh, this is so embarrassing. -Liam asked me to go steady today, and I got so excited that we started fooling around..." Oh, wow. Hermione was not expecting to hear -that- on the list of things her students would tell her. She tried her best to maintain a serious, Professor face even when on the inside she was completely mortified (albeit, a little bit humbled). "Liam tried to use an enlargement spell... and... it... it went awry... and I just... oh, Professor." Lidia threw her arms around Hermione and hugged her tight. "This is all so embarrassing!"

"Calm down, Miss Cornelia," Hermione soothed, patting the poor girl on the head. "We should get him to the infirmary straight away-"

"-Oh, no, Professor! Please!" Lidia begged. "If word got out around the school that Liam was in the infirmary, then everyone would put two and two together that we'd been trying to fool around! Liam's parents don't know about me, Professor Granger. If they knew that he was seeing someone like me..."

"Someone like you? What on Earth are you going on about? You're wonderful, Lidia." Hermione pried her student off of her long enough to gather up her dress robes, throw them around herself, and push her student to the edge of the stairs. Lidia stood her ground at the last moment, tears in her eyes.

"I'm a muggleborn, Miss Granger. Liam's family are very proud of their heritage. They don't even know we're friends. He'd be completely disbarred from his family if they were to know he almost threw his virginity away to me."

Hermione blinked once, and then she narrowed her eyes. "Miss Cornelia, there are so many things wrong with those statements I don't even know where to begin. But first thing's first, go down to Professor Malfoy's dormitory." She saw Lidia's eyes go wide, but she pressed the urgency, "Tell him that I've sent you, and tell him what's going on. He'll have an antidote, I'm sure of it. I'll go see to Mister Killingsworth and make sure he isn't discovered by Filch. But you should know," she added, "That I'll be taking house points when this is all through. And we'll be having a nice little chat about this later." She put on her best teacher face, acting as stern as possible.

"Yes." Lidia nodded. "Of course. Thank you. I'll... I'll go to Professor Malfoy at once. Thank you!" She darted down the stairs, Hermione quickly on her heels. She managed to make it to the library in record time without a single sign of Argus, and when she made it to the restricted section she lit the tip of her wand and whispered, "Liam? Liam, it's Professor Granger. Lidia sent me."

She heard a small squeak from the back of the third row of books. Quickly and quietly as she could, she made her way to the source of the sound, discovering Liam doubled over with his back to her. He was moaning unintelligibly.

"Liam?" Hermione whispered. He slowly turned his head, tears in his eyes. They went wide when he saw Professor Granger, but he swallowed his pride and spoke to her.

"It hurts..." He groaned. "I... I tried... wanted to impress..."

"Let me have a look," Hermione offered. Liam's face shook back and forth, and he doubled up further.

"No! No, you're a girl."

"Yes, but I'm also a Healer. Yours would not be the first penis I've treated, Mister Killingsworth. And if you let the spell manifest too long, you'll do permanent damage. So," she grabbed at his shoulder and sat him upright, "Either let me have a look or risk it never working right again."

Liam's eyes glistened up at her in the light from her wand, and after a moment he nodded and scooted back against the bookshelf. His arm was still covering himself, robes draped over his lap like a medical sheet. "D-Don't laugh," he told her, beginning to remove his arm.

"I would never, Liam. I'm a Professional-" Hermione cut herself off, staring down at what appeared to be a penis of enormous size. It was almost like a character of the phallus instead of the actual organ -parts of it were exaggerated, like the veins and the head. It was even larger than the 'thick' ones she'd seen in pornos. Yes, Hermione thought miserably, that she had enjoyed a few pornos in her dry spells. But this took the cake! This poor child must be miserable. The skin around the shaft was tugged tight, and it looked a bit purple. "Oh my word, Killingsworth. What sort of spell did you use?"

"I... I couldn't make a potion, cuz I'm not as good at Potions... as Lidia..." he was huffing breaths between his words because of the pain. "So I thought... maybe... a typical enlarging spell would do the trick..."

"And did you try the counter-spell?" Hermione offered.

"Lidia did. I... oh, bloody hell, it hurts!"

"Shh." She glanced around the library, spotting a bit of light out past the restricted section. "Stay quiet. I'm going to go see if that's Professor Malfoy."

Hermione hopped to her feet, snuffed out her light, and tiptoed back to the edge of the restricted section. Much to her relief, she spotted Draco and Lidia a ways off and waved them down. Lidia smiled solemnly to her Professor and scooted past her to tend to Liam's emotional wounds whilst Draco approached Hermione. He gave a devilish smirk and said, "Gotta say, this isn't how I imagined us sneaking off to the restricted section after hours."

She blushed, favouring a grin, but then caught herself and shook her from her hopeless obsession with getting Draco alone in the restricted section. "Now's not the time for fantasies, Professor. I take it Lidia told you about Liam's... plight?"

"She did." He nodded, putting up his hand between them. Clutched in it was a phial of pink liquid that glimmered with a metallic sheen. "I have to say, the fact that the counter-spell didn't work means that Liam really did a number on his little friend."

"Yeah... it's not so little anymore." Hermione nudged her head in the direction of Liam and led the way. She watched Draco struggle to maintain a sense of composure as he approached the groaning lad and squatted down to eye level with him.

"Mr Killingsworth. Did you learn nothing in the sexual education classroom this evening?"

"Hurts... so bad..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Take this. Your pecker should be right as rain in a few." He glanced down at the poor boy's appendage and threw Hermione an incredulous look. He shrugged, stifling back a laugh, and walked back over to the Health Professor, setting his hands inside of his robe pockets. "Talk about inflation... Will we be bringing this to the Headmistress?"

"No," she shook her head, glancing back between Lidia and Liam. "Draco, it goes deeper than this. They're us."

"What?" Draco scoffed, turning back to look at the teens. "Cornelia, sure, she's you, but I'm not a pudgy, over-zealous, zit faced prat who enlarged his cock. I'd never need to anyways, as you so clearly have been witness to..."

"That's not what I mean," she sighed. How would she put this? "Liam comes from a pureblood family. Lidia is muggleborn. They're afraid of what will happen if his parents find out that they're dating."

Draco's face was vacant for a moment, taking in her words before he frowned ever so slightly and muttered, "How is that us?"

"Really? You have to ask?"

"Are you insinuating that I'm ashamed of... whatever this is between us?" He jutted out his chin and scoffed. "Frankly, Hermione, that insults me."

"You... you're not ashamed?"

"I paraded you around in front of Weasley, Potter, and the red-head. Do you think I would have done that, or walked around with you in Hogsmeade, or even asked you on a date if I were worried what others might think?"

Hermione hadn't really ever thought of it like that. She'd always thought Draco might have just been using her as an excuse to get back at Ron and Harry on Valentine's... but when he had shown her affection, had he really meant it? Was the aristocratic, self-absorbed Malfoy actually saying he fancied her? Well... he did ask her out to dinner, after all.

"So what happens if your parents find out about you making eyes at me?"

"I don't really give a damn what they think. It's my sex life." He gave her a wink and turned on his heels to face his students. "Feeling better there, cock-strut?"

"Draco..." Hermione warned. "That's a bit unprofessional."

"Hermione, we're hiding out in the restricted section after hours, not giving these two detention and covering for their arses. I think professionalism just kicked itself out of a ten story window."

"Do you think Headmistress McGonagall had to do anything like this when she as a Professor?" Hermione mused. "Or perhaps Snape?"

"Hmph. Severus would have given anyone detention for looking at him the wrong way..."

"Fair point."

Lidia helped Liam to his feet, muttering out thanks after thanks as her boyfriend tucked his now regularly sized penis back into his pants. Draco crossed the space between them in a matter of seconds and glared down at Liam with a heated ferocity. "Killingsworth, we need to have a talk."

"A-Alright, sir?" Liam squeaked out.

"One: I don't care what kind of frivolous nonsense your parents want to instil in your tiny little brain of yours, but you shouldn't ask a girl to be your girlfriend unless you're willing to show her off like a pair of diamond cufflinks. So, I ask you, do you think Miss Cornelia is worth the bit of aggravation that you'll endure for dating someone outside of your social circle?"

Liam glanced over to Lidia and gave a small grin. "Yeah... she's brilliant."

Draco whacked Liam upside the head with his palm. "Then bloody show her some respect! Sneaking off to the restricted section? To what? Deflower her as if she isn't worth a few months of courting, flowers, and compliments? Did your pureblood parents teach you nothing in the ways of wooing a woman?"

"Y-Yes sir, they did..."

"Then get off your bloody bum and do it, Killingsworth. If I so much as hear that you and Miss Cornelia try anything like this again without you courting her for a minimum of six months, you might just find your pumpkin juice spiked with a shrivelling potion that will leave permanent damage to your... little Killingsworth. Do I make myself clear?"

"S-Sir!"

Draco smirked. "Good. And while you're at it, do grow a pair and suck it up to tell your parents that you're dating a fine, upstanding student of Hogwarts. She deserves that, or you don't deserve her at all."

"Yes.. Yes, sir!"

"Great." Draco patted Liam on the head. "I expect you bright and early at breakfast tomorrow and still a virgin." He glanced over to Lidia. "That goes for you as well, Miss Cornelia."

Hermione stood in awe as she watched the two students scamper away, no doubt to hide away back in their dormitories until morning's light. She gave a few soft claps in Draco's direction as he approached her. "That was... inspiring, Professor Malfoy."

"I know." He beamed. "I am rather amazing, aren't I?"

"Don't get a fat head," she chided, nudging him in the shoulder with her own. Draco leaned closer to her, searching her eyes. "W-What?"

"That speech wasn't just for him, you know," he told her, his breath tickling her lips. "I mean it when I say that I'm not ashamed of being seen with you."

"That's... good to know." She tried to beat away the blush from her cheeks with thoughts of cold showers and sad puppies, but nothing would ruin the conviction in which his words held. Bravely, she pushed up on her tip-toes and set her warm lips to his. It was a simple, yet telling kiss. One that said she was appreciative of his words. She pulled away, patted him on the cheek, and said, "I have to say, this evening did not turn out the way I expected it to."

He gave her a sly wink. "I have a feeling you're going to say that about this weekend as well."


	14. A Chat

**A wonderful lady by the** penname **of WayMay has helped me so much with this chapter. Please, give her praise in your review, because without her, this chapter wouldn't be possible. She inspired a bit of subplot coming up, so yeah. She needs to be given credit! Thank you WayMay! Our little mini-plot is building. So excited. You guys should see us going back and forth in google docs correcting. It's so funny. I love it. *hearts***

 **And yes, we're starting the chapter off with Neville. It will be alright. Everyone relax. Neville has a role in this story. We are still hard Dramione shippers here XD**

* * *

 **"Collar Full" by Panic! At The Disco**

* * *

"So she dumped you, did she?" Ron Weasley asked, biting into his beef stew provided by Molly Weasley. Neville sat at the Burrow kitchen table, having only been here a handful of times before and feeling a tad out of place. Harry and Ginny were sitting at the large table as well, though at the other end and lost in their own conversation about Quidditch. He looked up from his stew and gave Ron a disheartened shrug of the shoulders.

"S'alright, I guess. She was really nice about it, and I understood where she came from. She just doesn't want to damage our friendship if it didn't work out." Neville smiled as Molly passed him a bit of toast to dip into his stew and went back to baking dessert. He watched Ron scrutinize every word as if they were stones that he might overturn and find what was really underneath them all. Then his friend narrowed his eyes and fixed his stare to the window.

"You know that's a line women use when they don't want to hurt your feelings."

"Yeah. I do." He felt his stomach drop -it was one thing to know it, but it was another to hear it from someone else. Someone who, as it were, was an ex-boyfriend of the very woman he'd tried to date (and failed miserably). "But I think Malfoy got the boot as well, so there's a silver lining."

Ron brought his attention back to Neville, face set in a scowl. "I can't believe Hermione would ever think about going out with Malfoy. Doesn't she remember what a git he was in school? Or how he nearly got us killed time and time again all because of some unresolved Daddy issues? He's the worst!"

"Actually, Ron," said Ginny, butting into the conversation, "I do believe Voldemort was the worst. Compared to him, Malfoy's a flobberworm."

"Hmph." Ron crossed his arms. "More like a niffler. Something seemingly harmless until it destroys your entire house."

"Tell me about it," said Neville, "On Sunday he started a massive food fight that took nearly half the day to clean."

"A food fight?" Harry smirked. "Oh yeah. Sounds like a real menace." He waggled his eyebrows at Ron mockingly. "Watch out, Nev, or he's likely to spray silly string all over the school."

"What's silly string?" asked Ron and Neville together.

"Never mind," Harry replied, "Just know that I really think you're blowing this entire situation out of proportion. I mean, Neville even said it himself; she dumped him too. So how about you let loose your knickers out of a twist and settle down."

Ginny nodded. "No offense, Ron, but after your display in Hogsmeade on Valentine's, she probably will never date you again. So you really just need to let it go. Hermione's a big girl. She can date whomever she pleases, and if it's Neville or Malfoy or Nearly Headless Nick, it's none of your concern."

Ron let out another ' _harumph._ ' "I don't care who she dates."

"Sure you don't," Harry teased.

"I don't! I'm over her." Though by the look on Ron's face, thought Neville, he might be lying to himself. "I just think Neville's given up too soon, is all. I'm the one who's dated her, remember? Hermione's as stubborn as they come. She wouldn't know a good thing if it slapped her across the face like a wet fish."

"Sounds like someone else we know," said Ginny. "Have you even tried to apologise to Cho?"

"Don't change the subject. I mean it. I think Neville's got a fair shot. If Hermione's not dating anyone, then she's just waiting for someone to take charge." Ron put his hands on the table and looked to Neville. "You like her, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I mean… erm… yeah." Neville nodded slowly. "But, look – I think she's already given me the red light. I shouldn't push my luck."

"And what if Malfoy pushes his? He's a slithering little snake who'll sneak up and try to hurt her. We all know it." He gave a soft shrug. "I mean, do what you want, Neville. It's your love life. But if you don't try again, I'm going to."

Neville stared wide eyed at Ron, surprised by the challenge. There was the friendly part of him that would gladly step aside and concede, but over the years, he'd seen the way Ron had treated Hermione. They'd been good at the beginning, but there was hardly any chemistry there anymore. And Hermione would always find a way to forgive him, because she would always hold a candle to her first love. If Ron really found a way back into her life again, it would be a disaster. A relationship that would end in tears and heartache. He couldn't bring himself to subjugate Hermione to something like that, so he narrowed his eyes, set his chin, and said, "Fine. I'll do it. I'll try again."

"That's the spirit, Neville!" Harry cheered.

"You will?" Ron squeaked out.

"I really don't think that any of you boys should be interfering in Hermione's love life," interjected Ginny.

"I will." Neville said, nodding his head.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Harry.

"I don't mean right now," Neville told them, "I couldn't get a word in edgewise with her today anyways. McGonagall's put her and Malfoy on caretaker duties for the food fight fiasco."

"Hermione was involved in the food fight?"

"Yeah. With Malfoy. He started the whole thing over a book. Hermione got fed up and picked back. They ended up doing a bang up job on the Great Hall."

"Over a book?" Ginny strummed her fingers atop the table, thinking. "What was the conversation, exactly?"

"Oh, you know. Something about Hermione finding Malfoy's book, referring to him as a poor soul… Malfoy said he wanted the book back. Hermione refused. Malfoy threw a strawberry at her. Then more. And then Hermione dumped an entire bowl of blueberries onto his head."

"Blueberries?" She put her hands to her mouth and giggled.

"What's so funny, Gin?" Ron sneered.

"Oh.. Oh, nothing. Just… something Hermione wrote me about in a letter… um…" She blushed a deep shade of scarlet and giggled a bit more. "Oh my… um… Neville. I don't think you really have a chance at all."

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, "That's no way to build him up!"

"What?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying that I think that… well… I don't think things with her and Malfoy have ended, is all."

"What makes you say that?" Neville asked timidly. His stomach dropped again. "He was acting all quiet around her. He looked like he didn't want to even look her in the eye -I mean, that's what happens when you get dumped."

"Or," Ginny offered, "He was just trying to be professional around the other professors."

Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged nervous glances. Harry was the one to speak first. "Come on, Gin. You don't really believe they're seeing each other?" He eyed her over. "You know something."

"No!" She said, a bit too quickly. "I don't know a thing. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell any of you because it's none of your business!" She jumped up from her chair and stalked out of the room, growing redder by the second. Ron's eyes followed Ginny until she was out of eyesight, and then he turned back around to the men.

"Sounds like you better get in there while you can, mate."

"Yeah… But… Ginny's probably wrong, right? I mean… no way Hermione's really interested in Malfoy…" Harry rubbed his chin, floating away into his inner thoughts.

Neville stared down at his soup, all appetite lost. He'd have to start paying more attention to Malfoy and Hermione in school to ascertain the situation. Hopefully, he thought, Ginny was just blowing smoke and there was nothing behind it all. But if there were, he'd have to find a way to pull Hermione out of it before she was in too deep. After all, that's what friends were for, right?

* * *

"You're doing that all wrong," Hermione said, eyeing over the spot on the floor Malfoy had just swept. As per punishment standards required by McGonagall, they were both forbidden from using magic while taking on Filch's extra chores around the school. This afternoon, it was sweeping up the Ravenclaw corridors and dusting every painting that hung in the halls. Hermione volunteered to do the dusting, but she had half a mind to do it all just so that they wouldn't have to go over everything again because Draco couldn't sweep manually worth a rusty spoon.

He glanced up at her as she stood atop the ladder provided to reach the higher paintings and sneered, "I don't need you to tell me how to sweep, Hermione. I'm perfectly capable of doing this."

"Obviously not," she told him, "Because you're missing all of the edges -and where is your pile? You're supposed to make a pile, not just throw the dirt to and fro."

"Tell you what. Maybe if I could pull this broom out of your arse, because that's obviously where it's wedged, you might lighten up and stop taking this so seriously."

They'd been at each other's throat most of the morning after discovering that they would be doing everything the muggle way, and Hermione knew that she was to blame for Draco's poor attitude. But then again, if he'd do things the right way, she wouldn't have need to nag him at every little task.

"You should take this as seriously as possible. If Filch comes back and sees that you haven't done what you're supposed to, he's going to make us do it all over again. Didn't your parents ever teach you to clean properly?"

"Yeah. With magic!" He tossed the broom down on the floor and crossed his arms, pouting. "This is entirely beneath me."

"Yes. And now the broom is, too. So maybe you try picking it up and giving it a real go, then?"

"I dare you to come down off that high tower of yours and say that to my face."

"Fine. I will." She chucked her duster in his direction, bits of dust scattering into the air and landing on his head. He brushed at the air, annoyed, as Hermione climbed down from her ladder, scooped up the broom, and shoved it back in his hand. "Sweep better." A couple of first year students giggled as they passed, whispering little titters that didn't matter much except that it was very annoying to have them walk right through the messy hall and muck it up further. She gave out a sigh, took the broom, and made the motions of a proper sweep, going along the edges and gathering the dust into a little pile near the wall. "This is how you sweep. Not whatever it was you thought you were doing."

"Surprising how you know how to clean so well," said Draco, grabbing the top of the handle from behind her. He was so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from her body, and she shuddered. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Considering you're such a _dirty_ girl."

 _Oh, I'll show him dirty_ , she thought, but then scolded herself. _Now is not the time to be perverse, Hermione. Your mission is to clean the castle. You shan't let any man sway you from the importance of a good discipline. Of course, Draco could discipline you, and I don't think you'd mind much…_

She shook her head, released the broom, and sidestepped away from him, turning to face those pewter-colored eyes. "You're one to talk," she quipped, going over and picking up the duster. She came back with it, brandishing it like a wand and waving it towards his perfectly combed hair. Draco eyed it carefully, taking a step back. Hermione jutted it out, and he laughed, moving away. "Oh, come on, Professor Malfoy. Don't you want to be a _dirty boy_?" A wide grin set across her face.

Draco smirked, knocking the duster out of her hand with the hilt of his broom. Hermione pretended to gasp and went to retrieve it. As she leaned down to pick it up, Draco slipped the handle of the broom under her robes and pried them up ever so slightly. Hermione gasped for real this time, whipping around and tossing the duster directly into his face. Draco coughed as a sea of dust engulfed his nostrils, and he took a few steps back, thumping his chest to clear his lungs. He glared playfully up at her and said, "What was that for?"

"You know exactly what it was for." She gave him a curt nod and pointed to the broom. "Sweep."

"You're no fun at all, are you?" He grinned and tossed the duster back to her. She caught it, smiled, and shrugged in response. Suddenly, her stomach gurgled - _loudly_. Draco smirked as she clutched at her middle. "Hungry?"

She blushed. "A bit. The sun's setting, and all I've had to eat is a bit of oatmeal this morning and some tea."

"I can't say I've had much more than that. Let's try to finish this up and maybe we can make it back to the Great Hall in time to scrounge up dinner."

She nodded in agreement and climbed back up the ladder. As she set to work on a painting of Perpetua Fancourt, the creator of the Lunascope, she called back down to him, "So, I have a question for you."

"Why does that never surprise me?" He called back up to her. He began to sweep, but this time taking in the important details of Hermione's lesson and gathering up the bits of dust he found into a pile. "Well, go ahead, inquisitive Gryffindor. You're going to bully me till you ask anyway."

Hermione smiled ever so slightly, focusing on the detailed edges of the painting with the duster. Perpetua didn't seem at all pleased with being dusted and left the painting at once. In fact, most of the paintings had already vacated their canvases to seek friends elsewhere. Apparently, listening to two professors ramble on was not on their to-do list. "When you scolded Liam the other night, you said something that… made me wonder… You told him that while courting Lidia, he was to wait six months of wooing her before ever attempting to further their physical relationship."

"Yeah. So?"

"Is that common amongst purebloods?"

"Typically. I've told you before, taking things to the final level with someone usually requires a promise of betrothal, or at least that's the way amongst my parents' generation."

"And ours?" she asked gently.

"I mean, it varies. Some wait, some don't. But what Liam did was just plain idiocy at its finest. He barely knows the girl, aside from their friendship and what he thinks his hormones are telling him."

"So is that why you told him to wait? So that he could get to know her better?"

"If he's going to give it all up to someone, might as well take the journey instead of rushing into it. Especially if he's going to lose it to someone outside of his social status. He needs to think long and hard about what kind of complications will arise from it before he subjects that girl into his family drama."

"I see…" Hermione was quiet for a time. The painting was thoroughly dusted, but she couldn't bring herself to move down the ladder and be face-to-face with him at the moment, so she kept going over every nook and cranny of the frame. Her heart began to race as a question loomed over her head, begging to be asked. She tried to push it away, but it was there to stay. She gave up, mustering up all the courage she had to ask, "So why did you ask me to dinner, then?"

She could hear the bristles stop their attack on the floor, and she practically _felt_ his eyes boring into the back of her head. She didn't dare turn around in fear of just what those eyes would tell her if she were to look at them.

"What do you mean?" His voice was even and vacant of emotion.

"Well, I mean… you and I have… done some things… and you didn't court me or woo me in any fashion. So, by your logic, I'm not someone you're trying to court by any means -and I'm _not saying_ that I thought that I was, because I never did -but… well… you shouldn't have asked me to dinner, then, should you? Because I don't mean to you what Lidia does to Liam and I… oh, I sound like an _idiot_." She slammed her duster down on the top of the ladder.

There was a silence, and then, "Most days, yes you do. -But not right now." Another silence. "Look, am I reading into this correctly? Are you asking me why I made the effort in courting you if I'm also trying to get under your robes?"

"But you really _weren't trying_ to court me," she said quickly, "And I'm saying that it's alright. And that you _don't_ have to invite me to dinner because you feel as if you have to in order to follow some _silly_ pureblood traditions…"

"Is _that_ what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?"

"Why don't you come down from that tower again, and we'll have a chat."

"We're chatting perfectly well from our current positions."

"Granger." His voice grew sterner. "Get off the _damn_ ladder and face me. Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?"

The goading shouldn't have gotten to her, but it did, and she gave a hefty sigh before climbing down the ladder and turning on her heels to face him. What she didn't expect was him to be so close- practically caging her against the metal frame. She took a step up the ladder in an attempt to match his height, but failed. At least, from this height, he appeared slightly less intimidating. His face was set in a practical sneer, and his eyes ran over every detail in her face before he gently caressed the side of her cheek with his fingers.

"You and I aren't Lidia and Liam," he said, an undercurrent of insistence in his voice.

"I know," she whispered back.

"I _don't_ think you _do_. -I meant, we're not them because we're not two hormonal teenagers who've never been intimate with anyone before. Just because I want into those pretty little knickers of yours doesn't mean that it's the _only_ thing I find enjoyable about you. Do you understand?"

"Sure…" She made to step off the ladder and escape this brutal conversation before it took an uglier turn, but he stepped forward and blocked her in -well, not necessarily blocked. She could probably still get away if she wanted to, but having him so close made her forget the need to leave.

"I asked you to dinner because I fancy courting you. And I'm doing _this_ because I think you're rather beautiful, and I can't help myself."

Her eyes went wide, and her heart beat like a drum inside her chest. "D-Doing what?" Draco smirked, glanced around the empty hallway, scooped her up over his shoulder playfully, and hoisted her into the air. "Malfoy!" she squeaked, "What on Earth do you think you're doing? Put me down!"

"No," he told her simply, carrying her down the hallway. He halted about halfway down, but because Hermione was dangling over his shoulder she couldn't see why he had stopped. Then she heard the sound of a door clicking open (possibly by magic), and she felt his hands wrap firmly around her to set her back down on her feet again. Hermione glanced behind her once she was on the ground and realized he had put them at the entryway of a broom closet. She opened her mouth to object, but he shut her up with a fiendish kiss that nearly knocked the breath out of her. His mouth was so warm and inviting that she forgot all about retaliating, even when he broke the kiss and shoved her in, following closely behind her.


	15. A Cupboard

**All of this lemonade I made from all of these lemons in my head. Drink it up! It's fresh! lol**  
 **Also, the description of Draco's Dark Mark in this scene, I'd like to point out, is canon to the info on Pottermore and Wiki.**

 **Hope** ya'll **enjoy!**  
 **A.**

* * *

 **"Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran**

* * *

When she heard the sound of the door clicking shut behind them and the small whisper of a 'lumos' as the tip of Draco's wand lit to life (no puns intended), Hermione came to her senses. She had never been stowed away in a broom cupboard with a boy in any of her time at Hogwarts. Now, she stared into the glowing face of Draco Malfoy -the last person her teenage self would have guessed if she heard about it in passing. Of course, that was assuming that unlimited time travel was a thing of reality. Time Turners were all but extinct, and even then there was a time cap on how far back one could go…

"Stop it," he told her, stepping forward. The closet was lined with shelves on three sides, the fourth side, of course, being the door, and when Hermione stepped back she knocked into said shelves and toppled over a couple of empty potion phials.

"Stop what?" she asked, attempting to simulate an air of cool demeanour, even though inside she was burning up with the cheap thrill at the chance of being caught and the nagging notion that this was highly inappropriate for two professors of Hogwarts to engage in.

"You're overthinking this." He flashed her one of his signature smirks and sat his wand on top of a shelf at his eye level. Reaching out, he snaked an arm down the length of her side and rested it on her hip. "Relax." His voice churned her insides like melted butter.

"I am relaxed." She shrugged, waving a shaking hand around 'nonchalantly'. "I'm so relaxed. I'm as relaxed as they-" And out of nowhere, his lips were on her neck, leaving a trail of sensual kisses that made her knees shake. "-Come…" Her hands found their way around the back of his head, where they each gripped a handful of platinum-blonde tresses. Each kiss he bestowed on her throat was followed by a tiny lick, and before Hermione's mind could catch up to her body, her leg had found its way up to his hip and jerked him forward. He paused momentarily as his pelvis was thrust against hers by the force of her leg, and the vibration caused a few more phials to fall at their feet. He chuckled, kissed her just at the base of her throat, and rested his nose in the crook of her neck.

"Someone's enjoying herself."

"You… you planned this, didn't you?"

"Pretty _and_ intelligent. Remind me again why I ever picked on you in school?"

In a moment of nervousness, the words toppled out of her mouth before she could retract them. "You said my blood was dirty." _Oh, good going, Hermione. That's exactly what you say to a man who's snogging you in a broom closet. Not.- See if he ever wants to kiss you again… for an intelligent woman, you can be so daft!_ Draco's body tensed against her, and he trailed the tip of his nose up her neck, resting those alluring lips against her ear.

"The only things dirty in this closet are these dusty shelves and all of the improper thoughts of you swimming around in my head." It was the perfect thing to say.

A wave of bravery overwhelmed her, and, in a flash, she pushed him off of her and spun him around so that _he_ was the one slammed up against the shelves, and _she_ was the one trailing kisses up and down his neck. The front of his robes were fisted in her hands.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured when she left little love bites along his pulse point. His hands gripped the shelves behind him, obviously struck with astonishment by her forwardness. His knees were bent as he struggled to stay on his feet, overtaken by the pleasure of her lips on his skin. Hermione couldn't help but think that he had never intended for her to take the lead. In all honesty, this feeling of power she had over him made her crave more, and she pushed herself up against him, fingers going to work on the clasps of his robes while her tongue danced circles at the newly exposed skin around his collarbone. Draco's entire body began to tremble, and he sighed, lost in pleasure. "Mmmff… someone has a lot of…" he moaned, "pent-up emotions."

"You're going to psychoanalyse me now?" she quipped, fingers finishing the last of the clasps. She yanked his robes off of his shoulders and down over his arms.

"Maybe I should," he teased back, lowering his face down to capture hers in a heated kiss. Hermione went to slip the robes off of his arms, but his hands caught her elbows, ceasing her motions. He broke the kiss momentarily, staring down at her, eyes shimmering in the light from his wand. "Let me take a guess. Mummy and Daddy have a very… vanilla relationship." He slid his hands up her arms and squeezed her biceps. "Too vanilla. So, sweet little Granger, being the Gryffindor queen that she is, gets brave. Starts fantasising…" He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a subtle smirk. "Am I right?"

"Sounds like you're projecting," she mused, attempting yet again to remove his robes from his arms. He tightened his grip, shaking his head.

"My parents' sexual escapades are far from vanilla. I couldn't tell you," she shut him up with a kiss for a moment, but when she pulled away, he simply continued, "all of the," kiss, "ungodly things," kiss, "I'd read in my mother's," longer kiss, "journal."

"You read your mother's journal?" In a moment of bewilderment, Hermione ceased her kiss-fueled attacks and stared up at him.

Draco simply shrugged and replied, "From time to time, to keep things interesting. You wouldn't believe many times I got out of going to ridiculous soirees simply by mentioning I knew a secret of hers."

"That's..."

"The epitome of a Slytherin, at heart. -Oh, don't give me that look. I never told any of her secrets to anyone. I just used them against her to avoid socialising. Surely, you can't hold that against me. Not when you could hold," he pulled her body flesh to his, "this against me."

"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea." He leaned down to kiss her, but Hermione halted him.

"What if someone tries to come in?"

"To the closet? This isn't a bed and breakfast. But if it makes you feel any better…"Draco reached up, snatched his wand, whispered a colloportus charm to lock the door and an insulato charm to prevent them from being heard. "That satisfy you, Miss Priss?" Hermione frowned, thinking about it. While it was rather nice to know that he kept her concerns at the forefront of his mind, she didn't like it at all that there wouldn't be at least a - _little_ \- risk of being caught. As if reading the aggravation in her eyes, he smirked and said, "Well, well. Someone actually _likes_ the idea of being caught."

Swallowing hard, she tried to shake off the embarrassment that came over her. The last time this subject had come up it had been with Ron, and in that moment destroyed every bit of confidence she had when it came to being 'adventurous.' Draco saw that bit of her as well. He flicked his wand again and dropped the locking charm.

"It's alright, Granger. That's one of the things on my list, remember?" He flashed her a devilish grin and tossed the wand back on top of the shelf. Carefully, he pulled her to him again and set a tender kiss to her lips. Hermione all but melted, losing herself in his touch and his sensitivity. His hands found their way to her cheeks, stroking lightly with the pads of his thumb as he snogged her silly in the dimly lit broom closet.

Plenty of thoughts swirled in the young witch's mind. Some of them involved the two of them taking their shirts off, but mostly her mind focused on the changes in Draco Malfoy that had happened right under her nose. When had the prudish pureblood turned into such a carefree individual? One that had food fights and courted muggleborns and snogged them in broom closets? Was he aware that he was changing? Did he even care? How deep did this change run inside of him? He was even becoming more comfortable with their sexual education class curriculum.

She had to come up for air eventually, and when she did she asked, "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

He laughed, hands leaving her face to find their place on the curve of her bum. "It's called growing up, Granger. You should try it sometime."

It surprised her how comfortable she felt being alone with the very man that had, on more than one occasion, wished for her harm or immediate death. She wondered now if those were empty threats from the beginning. With that thought solidified in her brain, she felt braver and went back to kissing him while her hands attempted, yet again, to remove those blasted robes from his arms. Again, when she got them down to his elbows he tried to distract her by flipping her around and pressing her against him, back to front. His lips set an attack on her neck, and she almost let herself be caught up in the moment before her curiosity clawed its way back to the forefront of her mind. She jerked out of his touch and stepped near the door, turning on her heels with a heated glare.

"Why won't you let me undress you?"

He snorted a laugh. "Someone's a bit too eager." When she didn't cave to his line, his face fell. "What are you going on about?"

"You know full well. You keep distracting me every time I try to remove your robes. So what is it? Another prudish quirk?" She crossed her arms, and when he said nothing she turned to reach for the handle. "Fine. I guess I'll just-"

"Wait." He extended his arm, not quite close enough to reach her, and his eyes shifted into a sort of apprehension she hadn't associated with him since the Battle of Hogwarts. She stared down at the robes dangling off his arms, the dishevelment of his hair, and the biceps that peeked out in the glow of the room. It then hit her -she'd never seen him wear short sleeves before. Not in the time she'd come back to Hogwarts to teach. Not when they went on their date, or fooled around, or _any_ time. Her eyes ran the course of his arm, following the short cashmere sleeve to the exposed skin, further down until they rested on the still covered forearm.

"You're ashamed…" she stated, flickering her eyes up to his. He glared evenly at her and tried to shove the dress robes back up his shoulders, but she stepped forward and jerked them back down. Draco fidgeted against her, trying his best not to lose control as he struggled against her feat to disrobe him. Hermione found a moment when he wasn't prepared and sent her fingers digging into his ribcage. Full laughs erupted from him against his will, and while he fought her off from the fiendish tickles, Hermione slipped one arm down to the bottom of his robe sleeve and jerked it down. It was just enough -there, she took in the sight of the left forearm. The faded image of his Dark Mark could be made out over the painful looking scars that ran from the elbow to the wrist. Hermione gasped at the sight, and Draco jerked away, smacking his head into the top shelf. He ignored the pain, and with a glance at her bewildered face he gave up the ghost and let his robes fall down to the floor. Hermione stood silent, unsure of what to say.

"You just had to push it, didn't you?" he sneered, though it was half-hearted. He looked less angry and more inclined to bolt out the door if she weren't blocking his path. "Honestly, why couldn't you mind your own bloody business?"

"Draco." She made to touch his arm, but he shook his head, and she conceded. With a sigh, she put her hands down at her sides and stared up into his eyes. "Does it hurt?"

He blinked back, stunned. Obviously, he expected her to reprimand him or fly fleeing out of the closet at the sight of his arm, but that was not something Hermione would have ever done. After a moment, he gave his best casual shrug and crossed his arms. "Sometimes."

"The scarring?"

"It happened when… _he_ was defeated. Every mark lost its magic…"

"Oh." She wondered, in all the time Harry had been an Auror, why he never shared this bit of information with her. "It makes sense, I suppose. The mark was connected to Voldemort," she watched the way he winced when she said the name, "So it would only be logical that it would lose the magical properties upon his death. -May I?" She extended her hand and touched his arm lightly. To her surprise, Draco allowed it, unfolding his arms so that she could run her fingers delicately over the scarred flesh. "Does… does this hurt?"

His face was unreadable, but he shook his head and said, "No. Not at all." He closed his eyes and released an anxious breath. "It feels good."

"Touching it?"

"Showing someone." He leaned his head back against the shelf behind him, encouraging her to continue her tender ministrations. The raised and grooved skin felt like the pads of fingertips when they soaked in water too long. "And… you touching it feels nice too."

"How long were you planning on concealing this from me?"

"Long as I could."

"Well, that's rather stupid."

He pried an eye open and raised an eyebrow. "You know what's stupid? The fact that I'm out of my robes and you aren't." They both cracked a daring smile, some of the tension melting.

"Yes. I suppose fair is fair." She reached to her robe clasps and undid them hastily. It didn't take her long to shimmy out of her them to reveal her faded jeans and t-shirt she used to paint her apartment back home, speckled with bits of yellow and blue. "Just so you know -I didn't expect to be snogged in a closet today, so I didn't dress for the occasion."

Both of his eyes came open, and he scanned them over her attire. "I've worked with worse."

"Have you?"

"No. Probably not."

She slugged him in the arm. "You're an arse."

"In what social circle is it acceptable to hit someone as a form of endearment?" He threw her a saucy smirk. "Muggles must be practically barbaric. Tell me, do men club you over the head to have their way with you too? If you think that it's in any way arousing-"

"Oh, shut up, Draco." She leapt on him at once, feeding him hungry kisses that forced him to stumble back, once again hitting the back of his head on the shelf behind him. At this rate, he was going to need a trip to the infirmary when they were through. He chuckled into the kiss, and his hands found the bottom of her shirt, dragging it up her stomach as he kissed her back with a feverish intensity. Before she knew it, her shirt was over her head and discarded to their pile of robes at their feet. Not wanting to be outdone, Hermione did the same to him, finally answering so many of those burning questions she had since she started to fantasise about the blonde. Between heated kisses she took in his smooth, pale skin and lean frame. Skinny wasn't the right word; slender, perhaps, fit him better. He was all long, taut muscle -the kind that came to a man naturally when he stayed active. His years of Quidditch had kept him in good form, and Hermione couldn't help but slide her hands over the sculpted muscles in his shoulders and the firmness of his chest. Ron had been soft and cuddly, not defined in any particular place except his arms, and she distinctly recalled a cute pudge around his middle. Draco's body, despite his adoration for sugary snacks, held only the appropriate amount of insulation needed to keep a body alive. The rest of it held definition, and he even captured that scandalous v-line that Ginny went on about when she described her intimate details with Harry. Not that Hermione enjoyed hearing about the sexual escapades of her brother-of-sorts, but once Ginny got going, there was no way to shut her up until she was through.

Draco pulled his head back to glaze his eyes over her half-exposed form. The atmosphere changed. Instead of the need to rip each other's clothes off, they eyed each other with appreciation, taking in the other's body and soaking up the image to think about later when they were alone. It caused a shimmer of heat to radiate over Hermione's body, and she rapidly became self-conscious. That was, until Draco took his hand, trailing it down the line of her neck, the bend in her collarbone, the subtle dip between her breasts still held behind the confines of her brassiere, and resting it right above her belly button. There, he let his hand explore, fingers caressing her abdomen with tremendous detail. Hermione had never been touched this way, so gentle and yet commanding, and she found the urgent want for his hand to move further down. Draco coiled a finger through the belt loop of her jeans and tugged her forward, pressing them chest to chest. She swallowed hard and fought to maintain control of her body as it began to shake. His free hand wound behind her and began to trace soft patterns up and down her lower spine. There was a tightness in her throat, and for a moment the bright witch forgot how to breathe. Being in this broom closet with him took all wisdom of sensibility out of her mind and kicked it off a metaphorical bridge. All that mattered was the gentle caress of his fingers and the warmth of his skin.

She stared up into his steely eyes and whispered, "More."

He licked his lips and closed his eyes for a moment. When he brought them back open, they held a sense of resolve. "You sure?"

"More," she said again, nodding. Her hands took his cheeks and pulled him down into a ravenous kiss. It didn't take Draco long to get the message. His fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans and unhooked it. Frankly, it was adorable how nervous he suddenly was, considering that only moments ago he had been practically a Casanova. Perhaps, she thought, she would need to take control of the situation to save his ego from being tarnished. She nudged him back against the shelves, pried away from him, and reached behind her, unlatching the hooks of her bra. With a flirtatious grin, she watched him stare wide-eyed as she slipped the undergarment off and held it out before dropping it at his feet. She noted the way his breathing became rapid, and he clenched and unclenched his hands. "Something the matter, Draco?" She shot him one of his infamous smirks and turned her back to him. Knowing full well the repercussions of her actions, she shimmied out of her jeans leisurely, allowing him to take in the sight of her hips and buttocks hidden behind a pair of her striped casual cotton panties. At least they fit her nicely. She'd almost gone with the worn out pair of knickers she always wore on the weekends. When she finally stepped out of her jeans and shoes, pushing them off to the side with her foot, she turned back around and innocently put her hands behind her back.

Draco leaned rigidly against the shelf behind him, mouth slightly parted and eyes caressing over every bit of her body. With a small cough, he cleared his throat and whispered, "More."

"More?" She took one step forward.

"More." He reached out, snatched her from around the middle, and spun her around. His fingers dug into her hips as he pressed her bum right up against the stiff erection hidden behind the constraints of his trousers. He began to lick and bite at her shoulder while he snaked one hand around the front of her thigh and in between her legs to the already pooling warmth of her knickers. There, he began to rub along the nub of her covered clit. Hermione's head fell back against his shoulder, and he turned his head towards her to steal a delicate kiss. "More?"

"More."

"Touch your tits for me."

Well, _that_ was certainly arousing. Being told how to touch herself only made her wetter, and with a confidence that she didn't know she possessed in the bedroom (or, to be technical, the broom closet) she slid her hands up the length of her stomach to cup both of her breasts.

"Mmmh… Play with them."

Head still leaned on his shoulder, she tweaked her nipples between her fingers while he played at her between her thighs. His fingers were warm and now lubed with her arousal, so that they glided easily around her clit with just enough pressure to make her moan. Absently, she tugged at her nipples, pinching them to add to the glorious feeling of his fingers. She knew Draco was watching every detail over her shoulder, and that alone was one of the sexiest images Hermione could have ever dreamt up. But this wasn't one of her lust-filled fantasies -this was real, and he was real, and he was touching her the way she hoped he would. The hand that rested on her hip disappeared, and with it, its warmth. She then heard the clinking of a belt being undone but was too preoccupied to care what was going on behind her- until she felt something warm and firm press against her. Oh good gracious. Was this happening?

"More?" he coaxed his voice like venom in her ear, poisoning her sense of control. She knew what 'more' meant this time, and with it the connotations of their actions. If this had happened before he had asked her to dinner, she might have chocked it up to lust and hormones. But now, with his discussion of courting and fancying her jumbled up in that head of hers, she knew that taking this step wasn't just a one-night stand. This was something intimate. This was meaningful. Part of her told her that she could back out now with no harm done. That she could say no: he wouldn't pressure her into continuing. She at least knew that much about the pureblood values lodged inside of that complicated mind. But there was a greater part of her that begged for the release, begged for the intimacy, begged to be brave and give this a chance.

She nodded, turning her face and reaching back with one of her hands to stroke his cheek. Coffee-colored eyes met icy silver, and she whispered, "More."

Draco's face softened, and he smiled - _genuinely_ smiled. But that was fleeting because after only a moment he let that smile slip into a haughty smirk before he tugged her underwear down over the curve of her bum. Hermione hissed an anxious breath as he took a moment to rid her of the undies and push her back against the back wall of shelving. Facing her now, he hooked one of her legs up around his hip while bending low to take one of her breasts into his mouth. His lips and tongue grazing over the sensitive flesh of her nipple made her moan incoherently, while one of her hands found its way down to slide around the thickness of his cock. Draco flicked his tongue in appreciation and then followed by blowing cool air onto the pebbled nub. It sent electricity down Hermione's spine, and she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. She stroked him a few times, realising in a moment of clarity that they were going to take this step and –that they didn't have protection.

"Draco…" she whispered, but he took it as a sign of endearment and slid his tongue over to her other breast to lap hungrily at her while one of his hands slipped between her thighs and began to play with her wet folds. _Concentrate,_ she scolded herself as she arched her hips forward for more contact. His fingers happily obliged, and two of them slipped within her without further prompting. The glorious feeling of being filled up by a man's touch (it had been years) made a string of thankful obscenities fall from her lips. She heard him chuckle as he brought his face up to hers and nipped at her lower lip with his teeth. Oh, Lord, how did he know she liked that so much? "Draco… wait…"

His movements stopped, fingers still inside of her but motionless. "Getting cold feet?" he chided.

"No. Not at all." She kissed him on the lips to prove it. His fingers twitched within her, and they started back to working her into a slow build up in her lower abdomen. They somehow knew the right way to press inside of her, finding her g-spot, thumb playing right against her clit. How was he so _good_ at this, like he had fingered her half his life? "Oh, good God…" She released his cock in a moment of pure elation, falling way to the sensation.

"There?" he teased, dragging the moment out as he pressed, yet again, against the bundle of nerves inside of her that made her want to cry in pleasure. "I love hearing you moan." When he slid his fingers out and back into her again, she all but lost her sense of control as she arched her back and gave a low, seductive moan. "Good girl," he told her, slipping his fingers out and rubbing the slicked pads of his fingertips along her left nipple. Could he _be_ more seducing at this point? "Tell me what you want." He rolled her nipple between his fingers, alternating between soft and firm pressure.

"I want you."

" _Where_ do you want me?"

"Inside me." She got braver, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Inside you _where_? In that pretty little mouth of yours?" He took the fingers that had been inside of her and glided them into her mouth along her tongue. Hermione groaned, tasting herself, loving this sexually charging display of enticement from him. "Is _that_ where you want me, Hermione?"

When he removed his fingers, she shook her head and said, "No, Draco."

" _Where_ then?" He was trying to stroke the vixen out of her, and slowly but surely, it was working. She rolled her hips while drawing her leg tighter around him, bringing him ever so close to her aching centre.

"Here."

His cock twitched against her. "You want me to fuck you, Hermione? Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" She gasped.

He kissed along her neck, under her jaw, and made his way up to tenderly kiss her lips.

For the second time, Hermione came to her senses. "Wait. Draco. We don't have a-" He cut her off with a kiss, dug around in his pocket for a moment, and when he drew his lips away from hers, he held between them a foil square. "I-Is that one of my condoms from my medical bag?"

He smirked. "I filched it when you weren't looking on Thursday during lessons."

"You rotten git," she giggled. She plucked it from his fingers, ripped it open with her teeth (which she recalled from last time had him very aroused) and set to work, slipping it onto his erection while stealing kisses here and there. With a nod, she positioned him and whispered, "No turning back now."

"Nope," he quipped, his voice heavy with lust and resolve. It happened quickly, but time seemed to slow down to Hermione as he pressed into her, sheathing himself inside of her warm, wet center and giving in to every ravenous emotion they held between them. Every inch of him that filled her up brought with it a sense of long-overdue satisfaction. And it didn't matter that their first time was in a broom cupboard at Hogwarts. It didn't matter that this was _Draco_ -if anything, that made the moment so much more; to give into her most primal urges with someone who wanted the same sort of passion and excitement in sexual conquests. All that mattered was that his cock inside of her felt as natural as breathing, and his lips on hers were a reminder that this was more than a casual affair.

 _Oh, holy fucking shit. Don't come, Draco. Don't you dare come._

He steadied his hands on the sides of her hips, taking into account the tightness around his dick like her pussy was attempting to choke the life out of him. He had no idea she would feel so goddamn good. Even the desensitising effect of the condom couldn't make up for the fact that she was so _tight_. _Move_ , he told himself, and he did, withdrawing his cock to the tip, eyes blazing into hers as he watched her lips part in a spectacular, "Oh!" It was all he needed to drive back into her again to the base of his cock, and he glanced down to watch her take the entirety of his length. Merlin, did she even know how erotic her body was when she was being fucked by him? Somehow, the image of seeing his cock move in and out of her just made her that much more attractive, which he didn't know she could be. He rolled his hips, rubbing his pelvis against her clit as he buried himself inside of the glorious woman while she trailed kisses along his collarbone.

"Fuck…" he whispered when she gave his shoulder a nice bite.

She licked at the bruised skin and said, "Too much?"

"No." He closed his eyes. "More."

She obeyed, letting him rock in and out of her while she planted nips here and there along his neck, shoulders, and chest. Draco could hardly stand the restraint it took not to plough into her, but he knew that doing so would slam her back into the shelves and make for some less than comfortable love-making. And Draco wanted to make this the most memorable first time she would ever have. He'd be damned if he was going to come second to a Weasley at sexual pleasures.

To prove it, he grabbed under her bum with both of his hands and tugged the light-weight brunette up so that she wrapped both of her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. Hermione gasped as he dropped her ever so slightly, sliding her down on his dick, before pushing her back up to tease her with just the tip. She moaned desperately into his ear, "Again." He did, and this time, she rolled her hips in time with the fall. Draco groaned, fingers digging into her ass.

"Yes…." He repeated the motion, and once again Hermione performed that sensational movement. And to think he'd ever even suggested that he didn't want this. _What a ridiculous notion._ He wished he could find a way back in time just to save her from the grave injustice of allowing Weasley to take her virginity. It should have been _him_. It should have _always_ been him. Young Draco had been such a cock block to himself.

"Draco," Hermione moaned softly into his ear, grinding herself against him. Salazar's ghost! He wasn't going to hold out long if she kept this up. He carefully pulled her up until he had removed himself from her and set her gently down on the floor. There, he turned her around, bent her over, positioned himself, and rammed back into her from behind. Her back arched as her fingers instinctively grasped around the wood of a lower shelf, giving him the sturdiness he needed to build a steady rhythm. "Yes… fuck me…"

Oh, _there_ was that little spitfire from last week. He'd wondered where she'd run off to. With a smirk and a mountain of confidence, he began to pound harder into her and earned a few airy gasps and even a small scream from her.

"That's it," he encouraged, digging his nails into her hips, lost in this euphoric feeling. "Scream as loud as you want." He reached down and gathered her hair into a fisted knot before giving it a good tug. Over and over, he thrust inside of that warm and willing cunt she possessed, each time losing a bit more of his resolve to keep emotions in check. Soon, he craved nothing more than to know that she felt it too -this connection they shared between the rhythmic meeting of their bodies. He became out of control, driving into her with ferocity and boldness. He heard the groans turn to moans and the moans turn to screams. He didn't think he could get enough of it.

Once again, however, he was forced to stifle himself and slow down in order to keep himself from peaking over the edge. It had been roughly a year since he had bedded a woman, so the need for release was strong, but he was determined to make this worth Hermione's while. He tugged her upright and whispered, still buried within her, "What gets you off, princess? On top? Bottom? Tell me, and I'll do it."

"I-I…" She gasped for breath. She ran her fingers through her hair, panting. "Let me ride you."

He bit down on his lower lip. Merlin, did she know how erotic she sounded when she said such things? Did she understand how unbelievably hard that made his dick? He didn't think he could be any more rigid, but there she was, proving him wrong. That must be some sort of life goal for her; correcting his assumptions. "Alright." He kissed the side of her neck. "Whatever you want." She shivered against him, and he withdrew himself to find a comfortable spot amongst the pallet of clothes to stretch across. She smiled down at him, and even though the broom closet was barely lit from the blue glow against his wand, he could still see the blush on her cheeks. Playfully, she climbed on top of him, pressing every inch she could to his as she tugged him forward to sit upright, while at the same time slipping herself onto his cock with a wry smirk. "Sweet baby dragons…" _Wait._ Did he say that aloud?

Hermione laughed. _Shit._ Yes, he had. "Sweet baby _what_ now?" Gone was the timid Granger from early, and here to stay was that alluring alter ego. Hermione rolled her hips, moving his cock inside her in all the right ways. She was even tighter from this angle. Draco forgot about his humiliating burst of phrase and lost himself in the caress of her warm and wet centre. The next time this happened, he'd have to make sure to brew a contraceptive potion so that he wouldn't have to wear something between them. He wanted to feel her - _all_ of her. He'd only grabbed this condom because he anticipated a _slight_ chance that he'd get this far with her. Now that they were here, he knew that he'd never be able to go back to just 'friendly' with Hermione Granger. He'd court the shit out of her until she either gave in completely or broke his heart. And even then, it would be worth it.

As she started to build a rhythm, slamming her pussy over and over again onto his dick, she began to moan. Draco added to her sensations by tweaking a nipple between his fingers while kissing along the shell of her ear. That's when he heard her say something he never thought possible.

"You like it when I ride your cock, Draco?"

He reached down with his free hand and pinched his leg to keep from coming at the sound of her voice. It was another trick he'd picked up from his discussions with Blaise – _'If you're ever in a tight spot and about to cast your spell too soon, a little pain can take the edge off.'_ Thank fuck for those teenage conversations late at night in the Slytherin dorms.

It was the oddest thing -Draco forgot how to speak. Everything about the book-loving Gryffindor spilling dirty talk into his ear caused a malfunction inside of his brain. At least, he thought to himself, he hadn't forgotten how to breathe. Since words couldn't find their way into his mouth, he nodded in response. _Talk about a bout of lameness. What's next? You gonna forget how to walk after this is all done?_

"Don't go getting shy on me now," she teased, moving her hips in a seductive circle that made his breath catch. Scratch that. He'd forgotten how to breathe now as well. Air. He needed air!

To force the last of his breath out of his body, he mumbled, "C-Come…" With all of the air now expelled from his body, Draco gained control of his lungs again and inhaled deeply. Too bad that the oxygen wouldn't reach his brain quickly, because all of his blood flow was now being concentrated his throbbing erection deep within her.

The Gryffindor-temptress giggled against the side of his neck while riding him leisurely. "You want me to come, Draco? Is that what you want?"

"V-Very much so…"

"Oh, so proper, even now. -Tell me what you want me to do, Draco. I want to hear you whisper it in my ear."

"I…"

"You _want_ me to come, don't you?"

Oh, that he very much did want her to do, because he knew that his fantastic restraint was wearing thin. He concentrated all of his working brain cells on two things: one; what he wanted her to do, and two; forming those thoughts into coherent words. He scraped his nails down her back to add emphasis to his urgency, earning a groan of pleasure from her. Her back arched, exposing her glorious tits right into his eye line. He trailed his hands around her waist, up her stomach, and then grasped at her breasts to knead them. "I want you to come, Hermione. I want you to bounce up and down on my dick until you can't help but allow that sweet little pussy to come all over my cock. That's what I want from you. I want you to ride me until you're fucking spent, and then I'm going to come inside of you."

"Yes…" She began to rock her hips frantically. "Yes, Draco, like that, don't stop."

Much to Draco's surprise, the words came easily to him. He'd never really done this before -sure, he'd tried it out during their little jaunt the other night, but… this was newly uncharted water for him. "You're soaking wet, Hermione. Do you feel how wet you are? Your cunt is just dripping from me being inside you. Ride my dick. That's it, princess. Ride me until you soak me with your cum…"

"A-Almost…!" Her eyes were shut tight, completely enthralled in the moment.

He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, bringing his lips to hers in a sensual manner. He licked along her bottom lip, then finished with the pièce de résistance. "You're so fucking beautiful, Hermione. I'm never going to let anyone," he slapped her ass, "get in the way," a bite to her lower lip, "of what we have. - _Come_."

"Yes!" Two more glorious thrusts later, Hermione clenched tight around him and gave out another one of those gentle sighs that told him she had achieved her sexual nirvana. She rode it out, and before long Draco began to meet her thrusts with her own, falling into a lust-filled daze as the current of his orgasm washed over him. Coming inside of her felt like a conversion of energy, or better yet a transference of a piece of his soul. He was sure he'd never be whole again without her.

Sweaty, panting, and spent, Draco fell backwards against the hard floor muffled by the fabric of their robes. Tiny dots blinked in his line of vision. Hermione collapsed on top of him, her hair tickling his nose. He smirked up to the ceiling as he listened to her attempt to catch a breath. The cupboard was silent, but it didn't mute the pounding in his ears. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. The pads of his thumbs rubbed up and down the skin of her back, coaxing her down from her high.

"That… that was… wow," she whispered.

" _Was it_ , now?" His voice was smug, and he chuckled. "Of _course_ it was, Hermione. That's what you get when you find an adequate lover instead of one that's subpar."

She lifted her head up and stared down at him, eyebrows knitted together. "Did you just refer to yourself as a lover?"

"Don't read too much into it," he stuck out his tongue. "I don't have half of the blood I need in my brain to speak like my normal self."

"Oh, I don't know. I like this side of you." She grinned, patting his cheek. "Maybe we should keep you in a post-orgasm daze all the time."

He raised an eyebrow, nodding. "I second that idea."


	16. A Discovery

**300 follows! WOW! Thank you, everyone! Let's keep it going? Thank you, WayMay, for feeding me plot bunnies when I hit a wall with how to begin this chapter. And now, the plot thickens. Bwahahaha. I couldn't (and shouldn't) do this without you.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Ex's and Oh's" by Elle King**

* * *

When Draco arrived back in his dormitory that evening, after having just spent one of the most enjoyable afternoons anyone could have in a broom closet, he began to ponder at how he'd managed to let this go so far. When Headmistress McGonagall had briefed the entire staff of a new class being implemented for general Health and Biology, he hadn't thought twice about what that would mean to him. He assumed the children would learn a bit about cells. He never imagined that it would be Hermione Granger instructing the class, and he most certainly did not picture himself being forced to confront her on such ostentatious lessons. But, as he undid the clasp of his robes and stared at the brazen hickeys along his lower throat, he was glad it all happened. Never, in a million years, did he think he would have begun to fall for the pushy bookworm from his graduating year, but… he had. Slowly, but surely, he was fighting a battle with his heart that he knew he could never win.

When had infatuation turned into something else entirely?

When did he let himself succumb to such a dangerous notion as _feelings_?

He plucked up a bottle of brandy he kept for just these occasions and attempted to drown those cursed emotions out of his body. Draco didn't even bother to pour a glass -he simply pulled off the stopper and chugged mercilessly. The liquor burned, but it was pleasant compared to the loneliness he felt at her absence. He could still feel her on his skin as he pried off his clothing. Standing stark nude in his bedroom, Draco wanted nothing more than for Hermione to show up with some excuse to see him just so he could have his way with her again. After another long pull from the crystal bottle, he slipped on a pair of lounge pants and double checked that he locked the door. Then he pulled out a small cigar box from under his pillow and opened it to reveal the breathtaking photos he snapped that night he'd invited her to his dormitory. He spread them out across his desk, eyeing each one with diligent detail. He admired the softness of her face, the subtle curves of her body, the way her eyebrows worked together to express her disdain at him snapping that first picture without her permission. An urge overtook him to take a new set of photos, but this time with her beneath him as he thrust his cock between her legs. She'd looked so beautiful riding him earlier today…

"You'll be the death of me, Granger," he muttered, touching his fingers to one of the photos as he took another sip of his brandy. And it wasn't just her body that he admired. He enjoyed the way she bantered back and forth with him, and he adored the way she challenged him. She was physically and spiritually stimulating; never before had a woman held his interest for so long. He used to grow bored of the women his family would set him up with – and at the mention of marriage, he ,instantly, became an ass to each and every one of them just so they would refuse another date. He never wanted to be tied down to any one person, but now he knew he didn't want to pursue anyone else.

He wanted Hermione Granger. In his bed. In his life. Damn it.

This was going to be an interesting adventure, indeed.

* * *

"I'm glad we're doing this, Gin. I haven't had a girls' day in forever." Hermione closed her eyes as her best friend painted the last bits of periwinkle blue polish onto her toenails. "And thank you for helping me select a dress for tonight."

"That's what best friends are for, right?" Ginny wore a devilish grin when Hermione opened her eyes again. A siren-red bottle of fresh polish was thrust into her hands as Ginny leaned back against the bed and brandished her toes out in front of Hermione's face. "Although, I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed you felt you couldn't tell me that the robust oral encounter you procured came from none other than Slytherin's poster-child. Did you honestly think I wouldn't put two and two together when Neville spilled the beans about your food fight fiasco?"

"I had no idea he'd be so detailed," Hermione answered honestly. "So you caught on to the blueberries. I'm proud of you for that. -I'm just surprised Neville noticed what I was eating."

"He still fancies you a bit, Herms. Of course, he's going to notice anything you bring to those lips." Ginny gave a small wink. "And I'm sure Malfoy noticed as well?"

Blushing violently, Hermione grabbed Ginny's foot and set to work painting it, hoping to occupy her time. But her best friend was relentless with her staring, and she caved after only moments. "We may or may not have had a… romp in a broom closet last weekend."

"A romp?" The red-head practically squealed. "What's a romp? Do you mean clothes on? Clothes off? Were pelvises gyrating?"

"All of the above."

"You cheeky witch!" Ginny shot up arrow straight, and Hermione had to grasp at her foot to keep it from flying straight up into her face. "Is that when he asked you to dinner?"

"No. He asked before."

"So you think he likes you?"

"I believe so, yes." These questions, though common amongst besties, held a weight to them that had Hermione suffocating under the crippling doubts in her head. She hoped that this adventurous turn in her endeavors with Draco would clear her mind of any hesitations, but instead, it just brought up questions after questions. He meant to court her, so did that mean he intended to bring this to a relationship at some point? What kind of repercussions would they endure as a result? Would she receive death threats from his family or perhaps scorned ex-lovers? Did he mean for her to be something to enjoy while they worked together and nothing else? What if she found that he was a bore conversationally? What if they had nothing more between them but unbridled passion and need to touch each other? He was scarring her heart with the sound of his voice and the tone of his laugh and the smell of his skin. Somehow, Draco Malfoy was tearing up her heart in the most exquisite way possible. And she loved every moment of it.

Ginny noticed the brunette's apprehension and patted her on the cheek, stirring her back to reality. "You'll be okay. -Listen, while I have you here, I wanted to talk to you about something…"

"What is it?"

"You remember I told you Neville had lunch with us all last weekend? That's how I figured out the bit about the blueberries-"

"Yes, Gin." Hermione felt her patience wavering. "Get on with it."

"Well… Neville was sort of under the impression that you dumped Malfoy, same as him. When I told him that he shouldn't assume, Ron got all bent out of shape about it. He told Neville that he better swoop in quick, or he was going to do it."

At the words, the curly-haired witch couldn't help but burst out into laughter. "What does he think I'll do? Say, 'Oh, Ronnikins, I've missed you!' and take him back?"

"I dunno. But he was really miffed when I told Neville he probably didn't stand a chance because Malfoy probably already had it in with you. I'd just… be cautious of who you tell, until you know exactly where you two stand on things. I wouldn't put it past Ron to pull another stunt like he did in Hogsmeade."

"I would hope not," Hermione said, shooting her friend a horrified expression. "There were a lot of parents who wrote McGonagall once they'd heard an ex-Death Eater was teaching their children. It even went so far as to get Draco pulled into her office." She shuddered. "I don't want him getting sacked on account of me."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Maybe you talk this over with Malfoy? Let him know? If he's really a gentleman, as you say he's turned into, he'll respect you wanting to keep things private."

"But what if he takes it as a sign that I'm not interested in anything more?"

"Are you?" her friend asked her seriously. "Interested, I mean?"

"Very much so," she said, just as surprised as Ginny. They both giggled helplessly, and Hermione nodded in appreciation. "Yes, I'd say I am. It's not just the sex that's mind-blowing. He's quick witted and funny to boot. It's interesting -when he's not throwing hissy fits or insults, he's actually quite charming. -And for a long time, I thought him a prude, but-"

"Malfoy? A _prude_?" Ginny gasped.

"Well, that's how we got to talking in the first place. He hates the way I teach sexual education to the children. Or, at least, he _did_. Now, I believe he rather sees things my way."

"Ha! You bet your tight buns he does! He asked you to dinner. I wonder if he's the first Malfoy in centuries to do such a thing as court a muggleborn? -Tell me. Just how mind-blowing is the sex?"

"Gin!"

"What? A girl has needs! And I need to know!"

"You don't have needs. You have Harry to satisfy."

"Oh, come on. As if you never wondered, just once in your days at Hogwarts, what it would have been like to take a sexy Slytherin by his coattails and ride him silly? Especially a _certain blonde_?"

"No!" Hermione gasped. "I… no, I…"

"Liar!" Ginny tossed a pillow at Hermione and hit her square in the face. If she weren't holding on to the nail polish, she would have hexed her friend right then and there. As it were, she purposefully drew a bright red line up Ginny's foot, and the red-head squawked in protest. "Oh, the nerve, Hermione!" She smirked wildly and threw another pillow. This one knocked the bottle down into Hermione's lap, staining her jeans in crimson.

"Now look what you've done."

"Do you think you'll get randy tonight with him?" Her friend asked, ignoring the disdained glare set upon her. "It isn't that time of the month, is it?"

"No, Gin. No, it isn't. I just… oh, I don't know what to think." She gave up trying to wipe away the nail polish and waved her wand, cleaning up the mess. "All I know is that I fancy him. I really do. Bugger it all… I fancy Draco Malfoy." She blushed violently and picked up the nearby pillow, screaming into it. When she was through, she looked over to Ginny and sighed. "I'm utterly astonished."

"I'm not. His entire family are tossers, but if you were ever going to go with a Malfoy, he's the one. Charm, good looks, oodles of cash-"

"I don't care about money. Or good looks. Though they do tend to be a feature well-worn on him…" She shook her head. "But I think he's changed, underneath it all. For the better."

"How big is his…" Ginny whistled, nudging down. " _Broomstick_?"

"I am _not_ having this conversation with you!"

"Come on! Indulge me a little. -Is it little?"

"Of course, it's not little!"

"It's big, then."

"Yes. It's ginormous! Practically a gargantuan sized cock! Is that what you want to hear, Ginerva Weasley?"

"If it were true, then yes!"

Hermione's ears flushed cherry pink, and she answered in a hushed whisper, "He's adequately sized, and he knows how to… maneuver it."

"Ooh, splendid."

"And he's rather amazing at sensual talk."

"Is he?"

"Yes."

"Fascinating." Ginny soaked it all up like a sponge to water. "Is he kinky?"

"I…" Hermione debated, deciding on not divulging the list, but giving her friend a taste of some of the things he had checked off. "He's adventurous, for sure. He's entertained the idea of tie-ups and hot wax and… submission."

Her friend gave a small groan, biting her lower lip. "Damn it. The most I can get Harry to consider is a bit of blindfolding and feather dusters. –You need to make this happen, Hermione. You need to use that Gryffindor prowess and charm the snake like putty in your hands. -Now, let's go on to the subject of your hair. Shouldn't we straighten it?"

"No."

"Just for one night! Come on!"

"No!"

* * *

"Your hair looks wonderful," said Draco, taking step after careful step towards the light of the lamp post, where a stunning creature in a blue, suede dress with no sleeves and a plunging neckline stood, trembling as her earth-toned eyes met his silver stare. They'd promised to meet in Hogsmeade at precisely 6 PM under the same lamp post that Ron Weasley had made an arse out of himself. Draco knew Hermione had requested time away from school this afternoon to tend to 'personal arrangements,' which he could only guess meant letting her best friend dress her up like a china doll. A very sexy… china doll… with long, silky legs… and tight curves that made him want to bend her over that trash can and… focus, Draco!

"I… thank you." Hermione blushed, patting at her straightened hair that was fashioned in a tight bun at the back of her head. "Ginny wouldn't let me leave her flat without… I wouldn't have…"

"For once, a Weasley was right." He nodded, giving her an impressed grin. "Stop looking like you've been shot in the foot. You're ruining the allure."

"I think that was a compliment, but I'm not sure."

"Eh, it was somewhere in the mix." He offered out his arm, letting her eye over his attire of a simple white button up and gray dress slacks. He wore a green tie around his neck, bringing out the paleness of his skin. She chewed on her lower lip, and he had to remind himself that he asked her to dinner and not a shag. Much to his delight, she took the arm and coiled a seductive, toned arm around his until she was right against him. "Hungry?"

"Famished, actually," she admitted, and he gave her a smirk to weaken her knees.

"Good. My friend, Theo, is a chef in the new restaurant that opened up around the corner. Maybe you've heard of it?"

He watched the wheels in her head turn, and she gasped. "No. You're not talking about _Serpent Noir_?"

"And if I am?"

"Then… that means you really do have a friend, because it just opened up a few weekends ago, and there's no way anyone could get a table unless already having booked it weeks out."

"Like I said, I know the chef," Draco grinned, enjoying the surprise on her face as he led her across the bustling streets of Hogsmeade. With a nervous edginess in his movements, he slowly grazed his free hand over to the one around his arm and squeezed her hand as they walked. He made a decision that he would at least do that much; he didn't want to spook her, especially after becoming so very intimate last week. For all he knew, this was just something for the witch to do for fun. Maybe, in secret, she got her rocks off by luring unassuming men to their metaphorical deaths by playing hooky with their hearts? Or, perhaps, she was actually Hermione Granger, exactly who he thought she might be and was just as nervous as he was. To his surprise, she squeezed his hand back and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. Oh. Now this was peculiar. She was initiating contact back. Hmm.

They approached the bustling restaurant and were seated within moments of their arrival. Theo, thank Merlin, had come through as promised, giving him a corner table, away from the prying eyes should a certain red-headed git decide to crash their party. His Malfoy manners still intact from years of grooming, he pulled the chair out for her, and when she was seated, he took a chair across from her, flashing a sideways smirk at her still bewildered stare. "Something wrong?"

"I… I don't believe I ever thought I'd be setting foot in this restaurant is all."

There was a tightness in Draco's chest, and he asked, "Do you not want to be here?"

"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "Oh, heavens no. I… I'm just flattered. Ron's idea of a date was always his mother's beef stew and a round of Quidditch with Harry after."

"That sounds… terrible."

"It was."

They both laughed, and Draco felt a bit more at ease when their server approached the table. He ordered them a bottle of fine red wine and an appetizer. When they were tucked safely away out of earshot of anyone, he leaned carefully back in his chair and grinned. "Let's play a game."

"Game?" she asked, her beautiful coral lipstick accentuating the half-smile brought forth from his words. He nodded, having never felt more comfortable with a woman in a social setting. Sure, they were in a lavish restaurant with snooty people all around, but with her, it felt… simple. Like they were the only two there, and everyone else might as well have been cardboard cutouts. "Alright, I'm game. What is it?"

"Let's look about the room and each pick out a table for the other one. Whatever table is selected, the other must then make up a presumable story as to what is happening in that moment. The snarkier, the better."

"Is this what Slytherin-alumni do in their spare time? Analyze?"

"Just a habit I picked up from my mother when I was forced to attend her terrible luncheons. When I was little, it'd help break the ice if I imagined I already had a story for everyone there. But I want to know how that pretty little mind of yours works, so… yes. I want to analyze, but only because I want to know what _you'd_ say." He waited patiently for her response.

The witch's eyes lit up in daring fascination at the challenge, and with a quick succession of small nods, she agreed. "Right. I think you should go first." She scanned her eyes discreetly about the room and nudged her head over to a couple not too far off from them in a center table. "Them."

"Them?" He chuckled. "Oh, you make this too easy for me." He eyed the man, who looked as if he could be about thirty-five, balding but not fully gone, hair a bit too black to be anything but dyed in a desperate attempt to look younger and impress his date; a much too thin blonde woman with considerable reconstructive charms to her lips, eyes, and nose. "His name's… Darby."

"We give them names, too?"

"Adds to the appeal. Now shush." Draco smirked, winking at her. "Darby works in accounting, and is magnificent with money, though he spends it all on hiring lovely little jewels like the one across from him to cover up the fact that, deep down inside, he swings for the other team and has a hairy foot fetish." He could hardly contain his excitement as Hermione giggled into her napkin, attempting to stifle her laughter with a couple of short coughs.

"And the woman?"

"Her name is Penelope Van Wanderlust. Inwardly, she wants to be a man, but that frightens her, so she gets every Godric-forsaken procedure known to wizard to look more desirable. She's a Capricorn, and enjoys going down on women in her spare time." With a vicious quirk to his eyebrow, he nudged his chin at her. "Your turn. The family of four at your two o'clock. Be discrete."

She glanced over once, eyes widening, and nodded. "I've got just the thing. The portly gentleman with the thicker mustache… he's a distributor of hemorrhoid potions and salves. Got into the business because he always needed them himself, and wanted to help out his fellow wizard. His wife, Justine, is sleeping with the younger gentleman to her left, Captain Elliot, no last name."

"He's a captain, is he?"

"Captain of the U.S.S. Paddle-bottom."

Draco snorted a laugh into his sleeve louder than he meant to. He pulled back a few stray chuckles. "Oh, well, go on. Don't leave me hanging. And the girl, there?"

"She's Elliot's twin sister, Eleonore. She's planning on robbing both Justine and her husband after she shags them both senseless. That's how Elliot and Eleonore make their living."

"Shagging hemorrhoid infested couples and stealing their assets?"

"You've got it."

He reached across the table and took her hand, strumming his thumb across her knuckles. "You know, I think you and I are going to get on just fine."

"Had doubts?"

"I was rather worried you wouldn't be able to hold back your bossy, know-it-all attitude."

He watched her face flush red in heated aggravation. "I bet you think you're just so witty, don't you?"

"Most days."

"Well, I don't know why I expected you to be anything other than your pratty self."

"I don't know why you did, either." He smirked as the server poured them both a glass of wine. When they were alone again, he retracted his hand from hers and raised his glass. "To discovering new endeavors." She clinked glasses with him, but he noticed that she didn't bring the stemmed glass to her lips. He took a quick sip and narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I just… is that what we're doing? Discovering new endeavors?"

"Aren't we?"

"I mean… is that all we're doing?"

"We're on a dinner date. You want me to spell it out for you?"

Much to his surprise, she tilted the wine glass into her mouth and downed half the glass before setting it down on the table and nodding. "Yes, actually. Spelling challenge."

"D.A.T.E." He smirked. "I." Pause. "L.I.K.E." Pause. "Y.O.U."

"What does that spell?" She smiled meekly. Draco rolled his eyes, took another pull from his wine, and matched her smile with another heated smirk.

"Courting."

"Could you use it in a sentence?"

"I rather enjoyed courting you this evening, until you decided to become a prying, insistent specimen of self-doubt."

It was her turn to narrow eyes, and she tapped her finger along the long, crystal stem of her glass. "Is there a second meaning?"

Not wanting to be outdone, Draco gave her another explanation -one that he hoped would sate her. "I'm courting you, because I'd like this to go somewhere."

"Where, exactly?"

"I dunno…" He flickered his eyes down to the table, anxious. "My bedroom?"

"Draco, be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious."

"You know what I meant."

"Of course, I know bloody well want you meant," he sneered quietly. "I just don't know why I need to say it out loud after…" His voice grew even softer. "After becoming intimately acquainted with each other. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"No. To a modern woman, a man could simply do such a thing and not even return her post, and that would be considered normal."

"Well, as you can see, we're here. At a very expensive venue. Sipping on wine. Bickering. So if that doesn't tell you exactly my intentions, considering I haven't gotten up and stormed out of here after your infuriating interrogation, I don't know what will please you except to say: I'd like to continue to date you. And then, possibly, develop something further. And then check off everything on that confounded list, and then make another, and then check off everything on that one as well." He pried his eyes up to hers and felt the warmth on his cheeks. "Happy?"

"Yes." She sat more comfortably in her chair and began nursing at her wine. "That's exactly what I needed to know."

"Great," he said through clenched teeth.

"Ron can't know."

The hairs on Draco's neck heckled, and he rolled his head around to loosen his tense shoulders. "Afraid of what dear Weasel-bee will have to say? Or are you just that ashamed?"

She looked genuinely hurt. "That's low, Draco."

"Well, what is it then?"

"He's out to get you sacked. Ginny practically told me that he means to make your life a living Hell if he found out that you and I were dating. I'm not saying that we hide behind lies. Just… maybe that we should hold off until the school term ends, and he's had more time to process it all."

Despite the idea of masking their blossoming connection from a particular red-headed toe rag, Draco heard the silver lining in her words and smirked. "So, you plan on us lasting that long, do you?"

"Don't you?"

"I'll admit, I'm not one to attempt things half-ass. So if I'm going to go into this, wands blazing, I expect to give it my all. And I don't accept failure very well."

"Neither do I." She broke out into a tiny smile. "So, we're doing this, then? I mean… I… what do I tell Ginny, I mean? She's going to ask eventually, and…"

"Exclusivity. -Is that the word you're looking for? Because I'm not looking at anyone else. Not by a long-shot."

"Same on this end."

"Good."

"And… we can't tell Neville, either."

"Oh, what the seven _hells_?"

"He's keeping an eye out for Ron!" She threw her hands into the air. "I'm just saying that unless we want to run the risk of Ron sabotaging your entire work front, we need to act professionally when Neville is around. That's all."

"Well, that takes away my bragging rights I was _so_ looking forward to throwing around in his face," Draco smirked, crossing his arms. He considered it, and decided that, though he didn't like the idea, it was rather intelligent. They could tell Weasley about their newly found relationship after the summer had broken in, and he could have the entire season to stew about it without risking Draco's reputation as the Hogwarts Potions Professor. The last thing he wanted to do was get sacked and have to move back in with Mum and Dad. And even more importantly, he didn't want to move away and lose a chance to enjoy Hermione's company. "Fine, then. But to everyone else?"

She offered her wine glass out to the center of the table. "Exclusive new endeavors."

He grinned back at her, and they clinked glasses. "I'm going to take something exclusively off of that list tonight when we're done with dinner."

She gave him a cheeky wink. "I hope so, Mr. Malfoy. I hope so."

* * *

Neville wasn't sure why he decided to make his rounds down the Slytherin corridors on his patrol time. Maybe because it was so close to Hermione's dormitory, and he didn't much like the idea of Malfoy putting his hands anywhere near his friend. Maybe it was because, yet again, Hermione wasn't in her own room, even though it was close to nine in the evening.

He took his time walking down the lengthy, curving hallways, recalling that the potion's professor had a room off to himself. Maybe he'd just have a pop on by and pretend to request some sort of headache remedy (just to be sure Hermione wasn't there.) Ginny's words still hung around his head like a buzzing hornet nest, stinging him with images of Hermione cuddling up to the arrogant Malfoy heir. But Hermione wouldn't be that stupid… Ginny must be wrong. No, she wasn't seeing that git, and that was that… still…

He approached the door known to belong to Draco Malfoy with shaky steps, growing bolder by the moment until he tapped his knuckles along the wood and held his breath. He attempted his best 'aching head' face and feigned a groan. Curiously, no one answered. He knocked again, a bit more forceful, and the door swayed open ever so slightly, having not been shut all the way. Peculiar. So did that mean Malfoy wasn't at home, either?

He glanced behind him at the empty hallway and then forwards at the slightly ajar door. What if he just stepped in a moment? To have a look around? Maybe he could find something that would convince Hermione never to speak to the twat again, and solve his Ron/Malfoy dilemma without having to be shoved right back into that disheartening friend-zone again. If he didn't need to attempt another flirtatious episode, he could at least leave this whole situation with his pride intact when he was through.

 _'It's not really breaking and entering if the door is already open… Really, I'm just looking to make sure that there aren't any students planning a prank. Yeah, that's what I'll say if anyone sees me_.'

He lit the tip of his wand, pushed the door open gently, and stepped inside. The room was quite dark, so when he shut the door behind him, he lit up the candles around the room one by one and began the grueling task of finding something incriminating on Draco Malfoy. To his dismay, there wasn't much to go off of. He liked Quidditch, and had a colorful array of broomsticks. He liked to drink; there was an empty brandy bottle sitting atop his nightstand. Even his desk was bizarrely pristine. The only other person he knew who kept a desk as tidy was Hermione herself.

Surely she hadn't cleaned his desk?

"Nah."

He almost thought about giving up the ghost, but got a bit braver and looked about half a moment more. He noticed that one of the pillows on Malfoy's bed stood a little taller than the other, and that raised his curiosity. Normally, he wouldn't bat an eye at something like that, but with the way Malfoy kept his room (with everything in its proper place) it felt… off. He pulled it up and discovered an expensive looking cigar box. Well, that was hardly incriminating, was it? So Malfoy liked to smoke? So what? Aside from a bit of ashy smell on his clothes, that would hardly deter Hermione away from a man that looked like _that_. He reached down to pick up the box, and that's when he noticed that it was rather… lightweight.

"Hmm…" He glanced around the room, shrugged, and sat down on Malfoy's bed, hands poised to open the rectangular container. "What could he possibly be hiding in here?"


	17. A Misunderstanding

**Again, this chapter wouldn't have been made possible without the combined efforts of myself and WayMay! Way really keeps me on my toes, and this Neville plot bunny is hers, and her credit should be noted and given appropriate credit in the reviews! So please, so** Waymay **some love! She's keeping me on my toes to write a compelling story! *huggles***

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"I Didn't Know" by Bob Bradley**

* * *

Draco had to concentrate all through dessert on not making some sexualized comment about the way Hermione licked the chocolate mousse off her spoon and thought he deserved a fucking trophy or something. Every time she brought the silver utensil to her mouth, he could feel his cock twitch eagerly in response. _Luckily_ , his napkin was strategically placed as not to give himself away to the other dining guests in the restaurant. Still, when she finally had made it to the bottom of her crystal bowl and proceeded to dip her finger in to scoop out any remaining bits of chocolate whip, he felt need to comment (if nothing else, to keep his sanity intact.)

"Bit barbaric, don't you think, Hermione?" He gave a chiding smirk and took a sip from his wine (they were both on their third glass).

The witch didn't seem at all inspired by his quip, and, just to spite him, swiped all around the rim of the bowl before bringing her finger up to her lips and sucking on it gingerly. "Mmm..." she groaned, purposefully being loud to embarrass him. "Sorry, but it's so good. I just couldn't help myself."

"I bet you couldn't," he muttered, half-sated from imagining those lovely lips and alluring tongue lapping chocolate syrup off of his cock. His fist tightened around his stemmed glass, and he concentrated on evening his breathing. "So I've been thinking-"

"That's always dangerous."

Getting brave, wasn't she? That was most likely due to the wine, he noted, and thought that he would love to see her fully inebriated sometime. "I've picked from the list these last few times... I believe that it's your turn."

"Oh. _So_ generous." She gave him a wink. Yup, he thought, her disposition was most certainly because of the alcohol.

"Anything you want." He stared, determined, into her eyes.

"Anything?"

"Did I stutter?"

She tapped her finger to her lips, a wicked grin spreading across those lush lips. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she nodded once, in confirmation. "Right. Roleplay."

Ooh! Her suggestion turned out better than expected. "Any particular scenario?" he asked without missing a beat.

"If I recall, you gave a suggestion to an escort/client fantasy."

 _Oh, Merlin's sweet, sweet hat._ Draco adjusted his posture in his chair to try to stifle the ever-growing erection rubbing against the zipper of his pants. What had he done to deserve such a wonderfully venturesome woman? He'd wrote that down on a whim! And here she was, suggesting it as if they were debating on what type of tea to brew. He bit down hard on his lower lip. "Yes..." He could feel himself blush violently. "Is that the selection for tonight, then?"

"I want you to agree to it."

"-Absolutely," he said, nearly cutting her off. Why on Earth would he ever turn such a tempting offer down? Hermione pretending to be some insatiable, cock-hungry whore who wanted nothing more than to do whatever Draco Malfoy desired? He'd have to be daft to disagree! What would he have her do first? Strip-tease? Perhaps another photo shoot? He could pretend he had been working such long hours, and...

"Great." She smirked, offering out her wine glass. "A toast then. To the _escort._ "

He smirked back. "To the escort." They clinked their glasses together, finished their wine, and it was only then that Draco noticed she hadn't stopped smirking. In fact, she was practically holding back a fit of giggles as she finished her wine and sat the empty glass atop the table. "What're you giggling about?"

"Just imagining how you're going to react when you figure it out."

"Figure out what?" He blinked once. Then twice. Then... " _No_."

"Hmm?"

"You meant for... for me to...?" He fumbled over his words in a hurried fashion, his mind working much too fast for his mouth to keep up. "I'm not the _bloody prostitute_ in this situation, Hermione." He kept his voice low and pressed a finger down on the table, business-like to make a point. "That role was meant for you."

"Was it? Because you never specified..."

"I won't do it." He crossed his arms. "That's entirely beneath me."

"Oh, but it's not beneath me?" She raised a cool eyebrow, her tone shifting to cautious irritation. "You said anything I wanted. I want this."

"Why?"

"Because you called my table manners barbaric."

"So you'd go so far as to force me to submit to you like some tawdry piece of man-meat?"

"Yes." She nodded, suppressing a chuckle. "Oh, unless you're not up for it? _Ron_ wasn't much keen to roleplay, either..."

Two things went through Draco Malfoy's mind. One: how _dare_ she compare him to Weasley? And, most certainly number two, which he sneered aloud, "I'm keen. Just not with the roles reversed."

"I see." She dramatically pouted her lower lip and crossed her arms, the alcohol still tickling her brain. "Very well, Draco. I had no idea you and Ron could share so much in common... being so _vanilla_ , and all..."

" _Vanilla_?" He spat the word back at her venomously, insulted. "I... I am nowhere near vanilla."

"Sure you are. I can practically see the red hair sprouting out of your roots. I knew that blonde must be from a hair dye potion..."

"Fine. Fucking fine." He snapped his fingers for the check. "You want to roleplay? Let's get out of here and fucking roleplay. I'll be the best _damn_ escort..." He dropped his voice as his server arrived with the bill. He hastily pulled out the appropriate amount and handed it without his eyes ever leaving Hermione's. "Shall we?"

* * *

Neville's mouth refused to shut, despite his mind's public protests, should he continue to leave it unhinged, a few lacewing flies would undoubtedly buzz right in. He blinked once, twice, three times as he stared at the racy, scantily clad Hermione Granger biting her lower lip seductively back at him. Well, not at _him_. Never, in a million lifetimes, did he ever imagine he'd find boudoir photography of his fellow Gryffindor herbology-club buddy. Where in the seven hells did Malfoy obtain such intimate pictures?

He looked at the bedsheets in the photograph, down to the bed (where the images lay scattered about), and almost vomited as he came to the startling realization that _Malfoy_ had taken these. Here. In his bedroom. With her on his bed. Despite the horrified feeling of the world spinning upside down and inside out, a thought zoomed across the forefront of his mind for half a moment; _these were quite well-done photographs. The lighting... the allure.._. he shook his head, trying to cast the thought out. But like a demon that sunk its claws into his psyche, the thought stayed, growing stronger by the moment.

Hermione Granger was a beautiful woman. Neville only ever _dreamed_ of seeing her like this, legs splayed and biting her lip in a lustful gaze. But any of the times he'd ever fantasized about her in his teenage years (which, to be honest, was because she was one of the only girls to talk to him for more than half a minute), the fantasy had always been romantic. Candle-lit dinner. Big, fluffy rug that he'd lean her back onto as he kissed her in front of a burning fire. She'd whisper something timidly into his ear, and he'd smile back just as shyly. -This... what she had given to Malfoy... this wasn't like Hermione Granger at all. Not the Hermione he knew, at least. The Slytherin wouldn't have gone so far as to Imperius her, would he? Could he put anything past the obnoxiously well-built potion's professor?

One look at the shy, unassuming witch told him that no; this was very much something that she had agreed to. Willingly.

And that's when it happened. A feeling he wasn't accustomed to since his days as a student at Hogwarts reared its ugly head and laid roost in Neville Longbottom's chest. Jealousy.

Jealousy of Malfoy.

Jealousy that Hermione could be so carefree around a man who cared more about himself than anything else in this world. A man whom Neville had worked with for the last two years and knew to be a conniving, vindictive Professor who demeaned Herbology down to a 'means to an end for Potions, which was quite more important.' Yup. He recalled the day one of his students quoted the git.

Overall, he was simply jealous.

Why would she let herself become objectified this way to someone who had called her 'mudblood' and tormented her for years? What pleasure could come from that? He knew, deep down inside, that just because he didn't share Malfoy's confident nature didn't mean that he couldn't satisfy a woman. Was that the reason why Hermione allowed Malfoy to keep these photos? Because she was, on a primal level, attracted to him? Or was he holding these over her head somehow? Should he tell her about them? And if she already knew Malfoy kept these for himself, would that mean she'd be furious with Neville for spying?

 _Shite._ What should he do?

Absentmindedly, he strummed his fingers along the photo closest to him: one of Hermione bent over on all fours, back arched, legs spread open with just her panties to cover her soaking...

"Highly inappropriate," he scolded himself, closing his eyes, his cheeks darkening with humiliation. He shook his head a few times, prying one eye dangerously open to stare at the image again. He watched the way her breathing hitched, the way her body hummed in arousal. One photograph in particular caught his interest; Hermione, leaned back across the bed, one hand fondling her breast through her sweater while her other hand teased at the hem of her panties. A small blush crawled against her cheeks as she brushed her ankles together, still wearing a bit of that innocence about her that he'd always admired. It was so captivating to imagine her posing this way for _him_. His ears began to prickle with heat, and a slow burn flowed over his skin. A lump formed in his throat and stayed there. It sickened him to think this was all for the platinum-blonde slag. Sure, Neville was no Fitzwilliam Darcy, but still... he had more heart in his pinky toe than Draco had in his entire body.

Against his trousers, Neville could feel himself becoming aroused as his eyes scanned over each and every photograph.

"No. No, I'm not... I'm not doing this." In a flash, he scooped all of the photos back into the cigar box and shoved it beneath the pillow once more. "I shouldn't have seen those... it was none of my business..." Though he wished that it _could_ have been his business. If Hermione hadn't have turned him down, would he have ever been given a chance to do something like this?

Neville discovered something about himself that evening; he was a bit kinkier than he initially thought.

* * *

"So, how does this work?" Draco asked as they both walked along the cobblestone sidewalk, making their way leisurely back to the grounds of Hogwarts. "What are the parameters of this roleplay?"

"Anxious to get started?" Hermione teased, heart skipping a beat. She was ever-so-pleased that he'd agreed to the submissive role of escort, despite his obvious protesting. Well, that's what he got for calling her barbaric, wasn't it? Maybe it would teach him to keep his snarky opinions on her eating habits to himself. After all, she was only eating the whipped dessert that way to be seductive.

"I just want to know my role, is all. Am I the cheeky dominant escort who gets to teach his client all about pain and pleasure?" He stared down at her, hopeful.

"No. Just the typical, run-of-the-mill escort will do. _Submissive_. Eager to please."

"Bloody Hell." He pinched her arm to spite her and stuck out his tongue. "I'm anything but typical." He all but pouted as the lights of Hogwarts could be seen along the horizon.

"I know you are," she smirked, "But tonight, you're my plaything."

He thought about it a moment, then grinned like the devil. "I rather like the sound of that..."

* * *

Neville left Malfoy's door exactly like he had found it; shut, but not completely. Where had he been going in such a hurry as to not close a bloody door? He looked about the hallway, relieved it was nearing ten in the evening, and all students were required to be in their dormitories. Otherwise, this might have made for an awkward misunderstanding.

He made it to the steps leading up to the main hallway and gave a relieved sigh. Soon, he was going to be tucked away in his bedroom, shut out from the rest of the world, where he could finally over think his discovery of Hermione's photographs (and maybe sneak in a quick shower to calm his raging hard-on). He climbed the steps two at a time, and when he was close to the final steps, he heard someone giggling from above.

Someone with a very distinct laugh that he listened to a thousand times.

Someone who hadn't been in her dormitory an hour ago.

Should he approach her? Share with her his discovery? He was just mustering up enough courage to reveal himself when he realized she wasn't alone.

* * *

"I had a wonderful time at dinner tonight, Draco," whispered Hermione, stepping up the final step of her long staircase and feeling backward for the door. "I'm so very glad it doesn't have to end." She watched Draco's eyes narrow, sifting through his thoughts as he struggled to play this forced role. The wine still swimming around in her head, Hermione gave an uncharacteristic smirk and brought a hand up to his cheek, attempting to sooth him. "After all…" she played her part well, thinking as he would and rubbing the pad of her thumb over his alluring, pale lips. "You're mine for the night."

* * *

Neville Longbottom flushed cherry red. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. He watched his friend lean in closely and brush her nose against Malfoy's. Instantly, Neville knew he didn't belong here. He wanted nothing more than to scurry away and find his dormitory, where he could bury his face under a pillow and never, ever think of this night again. - _Why did it have to be Malfoy? Out of all the rotten gits, why did she have to be out with him? Inviting him in as if he deserved it! Had she forgotten all of the times he had teased her and called her ugly when in fact she was one of the prettiest witches in school?_

He turned to leave and find a place to bugger off to, wand gripped tight in his hand, when the demon that toyed with him earlier latched onto his chest and refused to go. Overwhelmed by this sinking in his heart, he turned his eyes back up to the couple, hoping that this was all some elaborate prank and that Hermione would push him off of her at any moment and scream, 'You'll never get in my knickers!'

A bloke could dream, couldn't he?

It was Draco Malfoy's reaction that stopped Neville dead in his tracks from leaving then and there to stew about in his loathing. No, the next words caught him dead by surprise.

"I should say so. You did pay quite a hefty sum to get me here, didn't you?"

 _Holy Hippogriff! Was... what... who...when... what?_

* * *

Hermione watched the corners of his lips pull up ever so slightly as Draco gave her a small wink, challenging her to response. He brought her knuckles up to his lips and kissed them seductively.

She had to stifle a set of giggles as she swatted him on the arm. "Good one," she whispered, clearing her throat to say a bit louder, "I'll admit, your price was a bit steep."

"Well, if you want quality, you have to pay the toll, no?" He bit down on his lower lip, snaking his fingers down the sides of her dress to rest his hands along her pelvic bones.

Playing along, Hermione rubbed her hands sensually up Draco's tight chest and nodded slowly. "Practically could have bought a house for your services."

 _What, now?_ Neville narrowed his eyes, utterly perplexed. He wasn't hearing... what he thought he was hearing... was he?

"I even had to take out a loan from Harry..."

"Oh, poor Granger." Draco _tsked_. "I'm sure that had to have been _hard_..." At the final word, he took the hand that tucked in his and brought it down to the firm erection hidden beneath his dress pants. Hermione's eyes widened at his forwardness, and she rubbed against the thick, lengthy organ, determined to call his bluff. She watched his lips part, and an anxious sigh escaped his throat.

"So you're mine, then?" She asked, emphasizing the implications of their roles. She wanted to make sure he understood; whatever she wanted tonight, he was to give it to her, and she would be the one to command it. The thought both thrilled and frightened her, but she was game, especially when her sexual partner declared only hours ago that this was as real for him as it was for her. "All night? Whatever I want?"

Draco gazed at her through half slits, pink tinting his cheeks. "Mmm... yeah. Whatever you want, Hermione." He caught himself as he slipped from his role, and added quickly, "You paid for the deluxe ' _boyfriend'_ package after all."

She giggled, sliding her hand away from his stiffness to pat his cheek. "Yes. I suppose I did, didn't I?" She reached back, turned the handle, and said, "Won't you come in, then?"

* * *

 _Oh come on, Hermione! Don't tell me you hired Malfoy to be your boy-toy? How long has this been going on? Is that why he had those seductive photos of her?_

Neville shook his head over and over again, gripping his wand with a shaking hand. Watching Hermione speak this way to Malfoy only added salt to the proverbial wounds to Neville's psyche. So, she hired Malfoy as a male prostitute, but she couldn't be bothered to date a decent fellow, like himself? Just what on God's green Earth did Draco Malfoy have that Neville didn't? Aside from money... and more traditionally handsome features... and a better wardrobe... and confidence.

And just what in the seven HELLS did Draco Malfoy need any money for? Why would he sell his body? The arrogant twat probably got off on treating women as a number instead of having to attend to their emotional needs. The sod.

Neville glared up at the pair as he watched Malfoy dip his head in for a long, sensual kiss that made Hermione mewl under his touch.

He didn't deserve to be touching her that way. He didn't deserve her in any way. Why couldn't Hermione see that?

Inside his mind, feeling much to voyeur and not enough like his usual self, he watched the couple snog against the frame of the door and debated if he should tell Ron about any of this. No. Even he knew it was a bad idea letting Ron know. He'd just reprimand Hermione without being understanding. Neville knew she had been lonely for such a long time, but he had no idea just how lonely she was to stoop so low as to invite Malfoy into her bed, in exchange for money. Maybe, he thought, if he could find a chance to talk this over with her and let her know she didn't need to hire intimacy to be happy, he could put an end to this whole thing.

He nodded, his decision firmly set. He'd just need to muster a bit of courage, is all. And then he could rescue Hermione from herself and the slithery clutches of the man-whore.

* * *

 **Alright, now. Everyone settle down. I can already hear the reviews: NO NEVILLE WHAT NO HE IS INNOCENT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE OMGDSFDSFOSF!**

 **My reaction: Simmer. He's a grown man. He's not that little boy we all adored in Hogwarts. He's the grown man we adore now. And a man who has needs. And desires. And he can't be -perfect- all the time. I've attempted my best at showing a grown up, tempted side of Neville that, I hope, will transcend well with this audience. Please remember: there is a plot to this. Let it run its course, please! I'm so excited to let the humor build! I** promise, **it will all be alright. WayMay and I have got you, should you need a raft to float on!**

 **Love,**  
 **~A.**


	18. A Good Boy

**This chapter is a strong lemon with a dom/Hermione sub/Draco theme. I haven't seen too many of those in my day, and I decided to challenge myself when I** receieved **a review off of that said 'I hope this isn't another one of those** dom **/Draco sub/Hermione stories'. Well. I think I've officially taken that to heart, and created something different from** it, **after WayMay jokingly suggested that they should roleplay hooker/client. And then this happened.** XD **I'm always up for a good challenge.**

 **Thank you, WayMay, for not laughing at me (at least in words) for writing this bit of fun smut. XD**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Freak" by Estelle**

* * *

"Well?" Draco sneered quietly as he shut the door behind him. "You have me here, Hermione. Now what will you-"

"-Stop talking," she told him, a commanding tone in her voice that he assumed she must have used in her classroom. Draco raised a superior eyebrow but said nothing. He simply locked the door behind him, gave a critical smirk, and tried his best to stay calm despite venturing into uncharted territory. _Why did I have to check off that submissive box on that bloody list?_ It wasn't as if he hadn't ever wanted to give it a go -but he never imagined that he'd find a willing participant, and it wasn't something that was on his priority list, in any case. He was always perfectly content with being dominating in the bedroom, thank you very much. So when Hermione glared at him with a fire he only recognized when he practiced it in the mirror, he swallowed a lump in his throat and prepared himself.

He watched her smile gently, eyes trailing over each and every bit of his form, perhaps taking a bit longer on the apparent stiffness in his pants. Merlin, he wanted to slam her against a wall and have his way with her _now_. He didn't do well with waiting. Attempting his best to fall into his role, he shrugged indifferently and crossed his arms, giving her notice that he was waiting on a verbal cue.

She inhaled slowly, building up confidence, and when she had assembled enough of it, she said in a low, seductive way, "You're mine tonight, Draco. That means what I want when I want it. Understood?"

Yeah, yeah. He knew the terms. That didn't mean he couldn't be defiant. He gave a faint yawn and sinister smirk before replying with a shrug, "Of course, Hermione. Whatever you want."

"Mistress."

Fuck. Did his cock just twitch at that? Maybe he had heard her wrong. Surely she wasn't asking him to… "Excuse me?"

"Tonight, you're to refer to me as Mistress. It's my night, my rules."

He felt the muscles in his face tighten, and couldn't believe that she expected him to be submissively obedient. But, before he knew what happened, he heard his voice say, "Very well, _Mistress_." He bit at the word like he could tear it apart with his teeth. Hmm. Well… that wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. It was fun.

He watched the tension in her face melt into triumphant glory. And, for some reason, that set something off within him -a want to please her again. She looked so beautiful when she stood before him with confidence -it was one of the reasons he found her so attractive; she never let him bully her around. In fact, she bullied right back. The idea that he could stir that kind of poise in her shoulders and that breathtaking smile on her lips made the whole 'submissive' pill easier to swallow. He told himself that he had control of the situation by being able to evoke pleasurable responses from her depending on his own. Yes. He could do this. He wouldn't back away from this challenge one bit.

"Good boy," she applauded him, curling a 'come-hither' finger in his direction. "My dress is a bit tight, Draco. Could you help me out of it?" She turned on the spot, baring the glowing skin of the back of her neck and tops of her shoulder blades to him. Eagerly, he crossed the room, dress shoes clicking across the floor. When he made it to her, he extended his long fingers out to undo the zipper of her dress, but she spun back around, chewing her bottom lip. "Wait. I've changed my mind. Remove your clothes first."

"You want me to strip for you?" he chuckled. She gave him a reprimanding look, and it took him a moment to realize his mistake, adding, "Mistress?"

"I would love that." She patted his cheek, kissed his lips, and sauntered to the bed. With a graceful fall, she sat on the bed and crossed her knees, allowing the short skirting of her dress to hike up her thigh. She folded her hands on her knees and wiggled a heeled foot leisurely. "Well?"

"Oh." He felt his cheeks burn; it wasn't usual for him to be so inexperienced in the bedroom. Of course, most of the partners he'd been with were prudish or only interested in a quick shag. Hermione differed from them in all aspects, from her looks, to her personality, to the deliciously adventurous prowess she possessed when it came to sensuality. He'd never before been asked to strip for someone else's pleasure.

With careful fingers and a forced, 'confident' smirk (because at the moment he felt anything but), he reached up to his tie and loosened it. Hermione watched, eagerness filtering into the glint of her eyes. _If she wants a show…_ He held his head high as he slid the tie through its knot and slipped it from around his neck. Then he tossed it at her, grinning seductively. In moments, he had kicked off his shoes and dress socks. Next, he went to the buttons of his shirt, taking careful time to pluck each one with precise movements. Her eyes drank in each new bit of skin revealed as he began to expose the base of his throat, his collarbone, his chest. When he got about halfway down to the bottom of his sternum, he changed course, removing his cufflinks from his wrists instead. With a clink, the first one fell to the floor. Then the other. He made sure to keep eye contact with her, even when her gaze would trail away to other parts of his body. He went back to work on his shirt buttons, even slower this time. He heard her breath catch when he finished the final button and slid the soft material down the length of his arms. He self-consciously glanced down at his mark, braver this time around when it came to showing it off. A week ago, he was sure she would run out of the closet, or at least remember the fact that he, at one point in the youth, had been branded her mortal enemy. Literally. But instead, she only cared about the scars. About his pain. About his emotional stature. She was an odd one, indeed.

He ambled towards her, sluffing the remaining bit of cloth from his wrists. When he arrived only a foot from her, he playfully tossed the shirt on her head. She laughed, taken aback, and jerked the white material off of her face. To be fun, he blew her a mock kiss, his sureness climbing like fire, setting a blaze in his belly and heat over his skin. He knew he was tempting her, being close enough to touch, and with that, he brought his fingers to the buckle of his belt and waggled his eyebrows. "Does my Mistress approve?" he asked, coaxing his voice with gravelly timbre.

She stared at his fingers poised around the leather and metal and then nodded slowly. Airily, she replied, "Very much so."

"Good. I only live to serve." Draco held back a small chuckle as he tugged back the leather strip and freed the buckle from its loopholes. Deliberately, he took his time to pull the belt from around his hips and offered it out to her. To his amusement, shaking hands came up and took it from him. "Is something wrong, _Mistress_?"

Hermione gathered up her wits and narrowed her eyes. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking?"

"My apologies." He went back to work, curling his fingers around the clasp of his pants. As he pulled the zipper down in one quick, purposeful movement, he noticed her biting her lip. _Come_ _ **on**_ , he internally whined. _If she keeps that up, I'm not going to be a very good slave. Hmm… maybe she'd punish me?_ "Would my _Mistress_ enjoy helping me?" Damn it; now he was enjoying this pet-name for her more than he should.

There were only two ways this could go; one being that she would reprimand him for speaking out of term. But, much to his delight, she went with option B and extended her hands to the waistband of his trousers. He took a chance, reaching out to stroke the side of her right cheek with his free hand, while the other slid over one of her own and encouraged her. His breathing hitched when she moved with his hand, pulling down the fabric over his hipbones, sliding it casually over his thighs, and allowing the pants to, finally, fall to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his set of boxer-briefs. After stepping out of the leg holes and shoving the pants aside, he guided her hands back to the V of his hips.

She tugged him forward, lessening the space between them to mere inches. He could feel her warm breath tickle the base of his stomach, below his bellybutton, where a trail of white-blonde hair led down to the band of his boxer shorts. _Please_ , he thought, _please do something_. _Command something of me. Just… something._

"I forget… have you ever done anything like this before?" she asked, her voice a lush whisper, caressing his skin. He closed his eyes at the sensation and feebly shook his head.

"This is all new for me, Granger," he teased, and she granted the break in character.

"Mmmh…" Unexpectedly, Draco felt her tongue dart out and trace a warm, wet line from the band of his underwear to the dip in his bellybutton. It almost tickled, but the erogenous texture of her tongue snuffed that sensation out immediately. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco heard himself moan.

Damn it! He was _not_ a moaner. He made the _woman_ moan. Damn her. Damn her and her velvety tongue…

She withdrew her face from his stomach and leaned back on the bed, propped on her elbows, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "Give us a show."

Draco looked at her suspiciously.

She raised her eyebrows, nudging down to his privates trapped inside the confines of their material prison. "Touch yourself for me."

Oh, what a naughty girl. But why should he make this easy for her?

"Touch myself? Is that what you desire?" He forced his voice into a lower register.

"That's what I desire."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and smirked. Then he waited. She stared up at him, expectant, and when he didn't move, she furrowed her eyebrows together.

"I told you to touch yourself."

"And I did, Mistress." He stroked his fingers over his chin again, giving her a flirtatious wink. "I'm so sorry. I guess you're just not very specific. My other clients tell me exactly what they want."

He could see the flicker of jealousy behind her eyes at the mention of other women, and it made his cock twitch happily. Good. He rather liked the idea of Hermione Granger fighting to keep what was hers. And was he _ever_ hers.

She pushed herself up so that she leaned back against her hands and said, "Tonight, I'm your only client. Do you understand, Draco?"

A metaphoric leash wrapped tightly around his throat, and Draco found that he rather liked the tug of it. Being bound to this possessive woman gave his pride a not-so-needed boost, and he found himself smirking with satiability. With a nod, he said, "Yes, Mistress."

"Take off your underwear."

Underwear? What underwear? Draco slipped it down his hips in a flash and shimmied his ankles out of them until he stood stark nude, hungry for her. He loved the way her beautiful brown eyes lagged over his erect cock while she licked her lips. Those same lips that he wished would wrap themselves around him right about now…

"Good boy," she hummed in approval. It sent shivers down his spine. "Now, touch yourself. I want to see you stroke yourself like you would if you were alone in the shower."

How did she know he liked to wank it there? -He did as he commanded, the fingers of his left hand gripping around the base of his shaft. Then, eyes lost in hers and a burn in his ears, he glided his hand over the length, palming the head eagerly, tugging gingerly back down, and then did it all over again. Hermione observed, mouth parting at each stroke. This was new to him as well; stroking one off in front of a woman? He'd never met one who would have been comfortable with it. But there was Hermione, the brave, bold Gryffindor, taking in each and every bit of him as he fondled himself in front of her. It only made him harder.

"You're left-handed," she noted in a quiet whisper, but before Draco could come back with some quip, she commanded him again. "Stop. I want you to undress me now."

With a slight groan, Draco released his hand from his pulsing cock, cursing under his breath. "I don't like being teased, Mistress."

"Well, luckily this isn't about what _you_ like," she winked at him. "My shoes first, if you wouldn't mind. On your knees."

The dominant side of him snarled internally at her, but the newly submissive side forced him down on his knees at the foot of her bed, already reaching for one of her heels. He leaned back on his ankles, finding a good balance, and slipped the first shoe off torpidly. He didn't ask her permission before he cast her leg over his shoulder and scooted closer to the bed, and, by default, closer to what was between those lengthy legs of hers. Unlike the first shoe, he slipped the second one off quickly and put the other leg over his free shoulder. Before she could protest, he reached up, grabbed her around the hips, and jerked her forward, riding her dress up to her pelvis and exposing her alluring black, lace panties.

"Draco…" she warned him, head arched back and eyes closed. "I didn't say you could do that."

"But I want to make my Mistress feel good," he cooed, leaning his head forward to posessively tease the warm, wanting bud of her clit with his breath. Even through her underwear, he could feel the heat vibrating from her skin. The scent of her arousal mixed with the sight of the dampness along her slit made him dart his tongue out for a taste. Above him, Hermione gasped, and around him, her thighs flexed. "Wouldn't you like to feel good, Hermione?"

"Yes…"

"Then… _please_ , Mistress. Let me taste you." Holy shite, he was begging. Legitimately begging. And damn it if wasn't one of the most erotic things he'd ever done. "I need to pleasure you, but you won't let me. Let me taste that beautiful pussy of yours, Mistress. I've been ever so good…"

It was with a large satisfaction that he heard Hermione give a luxurious sigh and say, "You _have_ been rather good…"

"Is that a yes…?" He captured the hem of her panties with his teeth and tugged, then released. "Mistress?" His nose nudged against her, and he flicked his tongue out again, dragging it up and down her quim. He received a desperate moan and a quick nod of the head. Draco smirked like a cat that got the cream, and before she had a chance to change her mind, he moved her panties to the side and dove in.

He wondered, then, if she knew how delightful she tasted on his tongue? He lapped at the slickness of her arousal as if it were a candied treat, eager as she moaned above him.

"Yes…" she whimpered, "Like that, Draco. Mmm… God, yes… I've been waiting all night for this… Your tongue feels so good… mmm… slower… yes… right there…"

He obeyed every command from her, slowing down or speeding up or applying more pressure when needed. Before long, he had her legs quaking around his neck and her sighing melodically. Impatient, he ripped at the thin cloth around her hips, hearing the distinct tear of material before she swatted his hand, jerking her head up.

"That's the second pair of my underwear you've ruined."

"My apologies, Mistress…" He didn't give her the opportunity to reprimand him, spreading her thighs with the force of his fingertips before dipping his head again and distracting her with his mouth. He dug his nails in, eliciting a string of gasps and moans while he ate her out. When he was sure she was too lost in bliss to think, he rested his cheek against her thigh and whispered, "I love hearing you moan, Hermione. It's so seductive… you make me want to do things to your body…"

Through raptured breath, she asked, "What sort of things would you do to your mistress?" That little bit of power she commanded at her nickname had his prick leaking pre-cum, aching in want to be touched.

He smirked against her leg. "Tie my mistress up. Shove my cock down her throat and make her gag. Kiss over every inch," he made a point to plant a feather-light kiss over her clit, "of her beautiful body."

A thought came and went across the forefront of his mind; he was ever-so-glad he had asked her to coffee.

He felt her fingertips brush down the sides of his face to cup his cheeks, and with a graceful tug, she guided him to climb the bed and hover his face over hers. There, he stared intently down at her, determined to give her whatever she wanted. Chocolate irises reflected back in his vision, demanding his attention. He stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek and watched her melt into his touch. "What does my mistress want next?" He used his most smooth, tempting tone as his face contorted into one of pure obedience.

She smiled up at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned up. She planted a few gentle kisses on his lips before she gave her answer. "I'm… I'm a little shy about this next one…"

"Don't be," he heard himself say, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing his erection temptingly close to her warm, wet center, rubbing the length of him against her slick arousal. Draco gave a soft groan in response, fighting his impulse to reach down and shove himself into her. No. He'd have to be good… he was a good boy, after all. "Fuck, Hermi – Mistress…" he corrected himself. "Just tell me what you fucking want… I can't…"

She closed her eyes, mounting her courage, and whispered, "I want to tie you up, Draco. Would you let me?"

His mouth got ahead of his brain. "Yes." _Wait._ What had he just agreed to? To… to being _tied up_? Fuck. Fuck, could he do that? Could he give all of his control over? A surge of panic shot up his spine, and his mouth became arid. He felt like bolting out of the room until she opened her eyes once more, and all of his doubts liquefied into a puddle on the floor. He nodded to her, fully decided. "Yes, you can tie me up."

She looked just as surprised as he was at his agreeance. Insentient, her hands fluttered over the sides of his face and his neck as she searched his eyes for resolve and nodded. "Alright, then." She cleared her throat, giving the faintest of smiles. "Why… why don't you be a good boy and stand up for me, then?"

Oh, he'd be a good boy. He'd be the best goddamn boy in the whole fucking world if it meant he could fuck Hermione Granger six ways to Sunday.

He crawled off of her, but not before dipping his head low to land a sensual kiss along her lips. As he stood, he pulled her up to her feet as well, pulse pounding in his throat. She chewed on her lower lip as she turned around, offering her back to him to unzip her dress. With sure fingers, he unclasped the top of the dress and, at a snail's pace, unzipped it. His eyes drank in every bit of her back as he peeled the dress down her form, over the delicious curve of her hips, and finally, she was bare before him. Draco took the time to admire her backside and the way her back swayed as he followed the path of her spine with the pad of his index finger. He heard her gasp, saw the way her head fell back in a delicious display of accidental submission. Chuckling, he stepped away from her, not ready to give up the game just yet. After all, he had his word to uphold. "What next, Mistress?"

She glanced over her shoulder, pupils blown in a lust-filled daze. Her eyes drifted over to her work desk, and she gave a carnal smirk. "Sit down in the chair, Draco."

His body shivered at the sound of his name, and he flexed his hands. Excited, he moved past her, bringing the chair out a few feet, so that it sat perfectly aligned between the desk and the bed. There, he took his place in it like the prince he always associated himself to be, pleased at her look of approbation. He swallowed in every bit of her form, from the pertness of her nipples to the flush of her cheeks, and then suddenly he remembered, "there's a vial in my left pocket."

Hermione raised a curious eyebrow, but went over and retrieved his trousers, digging through the pocket to bring out a bottle of blue, metallic liquid. She recognized the contraceptive immediately, blushed, and nodded to him before she removed the stopper and downed it. Then she crossed the room and retrieved her wand. It was evident to him that she'd never done this before by the way her body trembled. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, but to do that would acknowledge he could see it, and that might make her forget the whole thing. No, Draco couldn't risk that. With each passing moment, he found he _wanted_ to be tied up. Just to experience it and know what all the fuss was about.

So, instead, he bit his lower lip and gave her 'dare you to' eyes. The silent challenge worked, and her shoulders straightened in poised confidence. She sauntered up to him, then around him, scraping her fingernails along his collarbone as she circled him with the graceful essence of a Thunderbird. Draco hissed out a breath of anticipation, awaiting further instruction. "Hands behind your back. Now." Draco did as he was told, flexing his arms back around the wooden frame of the chair. He brought his wrists together and held his breath. There wasn't a word of magic, but he could feel it conjure silken straps around his wrists, though they were loose. He wondered why until Hermione coiled her hand around and put her wand to his mouth. "Hold this for me." Smirking, he reached out with his teeth and clamped down around the wand, taking it from her. She set to work, using the muggle way to tie his wrists behind him. Her movements were quick and precise, as if tying knots were her living. He wanted to comment on it, but the wand in his mouth made speaking rather difficult, so he gave into the silence, leaning his head back. He felt it cushioned against her stomach, and he glanced up to find her smirking down at him. "You look fantastic this way, Draco. You're so much more attractive when you're silent."

He narrowed his eyes challengingly at her but kept the wand trapped between his teeth, compliant. Hermione reached over him, dipping one of her breasts on the side of his cheek, running the length of her fingers down his chest, his abdomen, and finally at the teasing line of his happy trail. He groaned, already feeling his body stir to life with desire. _Touch me_ , he thought.

"Is this what you want, Draco?" she teased, bringing her fingers even closer to his cock. Draco gave a weak groan and gently thrust his hips upward, hoping for some accidental contact, but Hermione withdrew her hand at once, instead placing it on his shoulder. She pushed off of him and stalked around him while taking the wand out of his mouth. He watched her soundlessly as she flicked her wand wrist, and two more soft straps coiled their way around his ankles, fastening his legs to the chair. And, much to his delight, he saw her fall to her knees before him, tightening the straps. And oh, Merlin, that minx's little mouth was ever so close to his erection now, eyeing it over as she secured the final restraint. Then she placed a hand on each of his upper thighs and grinned up at him. "Who do you belong to, Draco?"

He chewed on his lower lip, testing the restraints. He had to give her credit -they were well-done. He gave out a shaky breath and sighed, "You, Mistress."

"Whose cock is this?" she asked, slipping one of her hands around the shaft and poising it at the tip of her lips. "Tell me."

"Y-Yours, Mistress…" He wanted to say 'bloody get on with it', but instead he licked his lips and whimpered, "Put it in your mouth? Please?" Shit. How did those words manage to find their way out? This wasn't like him at all…

"You want me to suck it?"

"Yes… please… I need it. I'm going crazy, Hermione. I-I mean, Mistress."

She gave him an amused grin and darted her tongue out along the head, licking off the pre-cum at the tip. Oh, fuck. His body reacted instantly, and, forgetting his restraints, he made to put his hands in her hair and shove it all the way in. He was quickly reminded by the tightness around his wrists that he was no longer in control. A feral growl escaped the back of his throat, and he threw his head back in frustration. Hermione chuckled, licking up and down the slit of his cock, swirling her tongue around the bell playfully, and then, in one quick movement, took him into her mouth all the way down to the base. Draco's eyes went wide, and a slur of obscenities fell out of his lips. "Fucking holy mother of dragons… that's it, Mistress… take my cock down your throat." Her throat muscles contracted as she made room for the girth of him. She held herself there, with his dick lodged inside of her beautiful mouth, moving her tongue as best she could against his length. Then, ever so slowly, she tightened her lips around his cock and dragged them up the shaft, creating a suction of pressure as she made her way to the tip that had Draco moaning uncontrollably. With a _pop_ , she let his dick fall from her mouth, and she licked her lips.

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Fuck yes…." Draco murmured, completely lost in the memory of her mouth on him. "Again. Please."

"No, Draco." She waited patiently for him to focus on her words, and he fixed a brazen stare on her. "I gave you that as a gift -but don't, for a moment, think that you're in control here."

"I…" He fought the urge to snap at her, frustration building within him. "I just…" He growled again. "Stop teasing me."

She raised her eyebrows at him and rose to stand, then climbed atop his lap, draping her legs leisurely around his waist and rubbing that tempting pussy against his dick. "Tease you? You mean like this?" She rolled her hips, her slickness coating his twitching cock. Draco jerked against the restraints but damn it if they weren't tied perfectly. _Annoying little perfectionist…_ She repeated the motion, eliciting a burn of lust in his lower abdomen as he thrust his hips upwards for more contact. She lifted herself up, arms wrapped around his neck, before rubbing her slippery pussy lips down his pelvis and directly down the length of his cock. "Is this what you mean, Draco?"

"Mmm…." He forgot how to speak for a moment, nodding. "You're so wet…"

"Wet for you," she caressed his ear with her lips, nibbling on his earlobe with her teeth. "You're the only one who makes me this wet, Draco. Do you like it?"

"I fucking love it," he answered honestly, closing his eyes to the sensation of her wetness against him. If she would just let him inside… he'd make her ten times wetter. "Let me fuck you, Mistress."

"You want to fuck me?"

"Yes. _Please_. Let me fill you up with my cock. Let me bring you to ecstasy." He knew that these were the words she wanted to hear, and he was eager to give them over if it meant he could be buried inside of her. "That's why I'm _here_ , isn't it? To give you ultimate pleasure?"

"Yes," she replied, and he could feel the caress of her fingers as she played with her clit while splayed across his length. "I want you to say it, Draco. Say you're my toy."

Ooh, she was going to push her luck, wasn't she? "I… I'm your toy, Mistress."

"Made for my pleasure."

"Only yours."

"And if I wanted to keep you tied to this chair all night so that I could ride you over and over again, you'd let me?"

"Absolutely."

"And what if I told you that you were forbidden to come until I've had my way with you?"

He grinned manically. "What else is a plaything but for to procure my Mistress's wildest fantasies? How many times do you want to come tonight, _princess_?" He chuckled darkly, opening his eyes to find her staring lustfully back at him, mouth parted, tongue just begging to dance against his. Hermione lost her collected demeanor and drove her mouth forward hungrily. Draco smirked into the kiss, tongue eagerly meeting hers. She, somehow, still tasted of the mousse from dinner, and of course, of wine. The mixture of chocolate and alcohol made him ravenous, and though he couldn't physically place his hands on her, he still commanded authority by the way he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, caressing every bit of her he could get. Being his Slytherin self, he began to manipulate her by pulling back a little with each kiss, forcing her to scoot closer on his lap to keep up the hungry kissing frenzy. Draco purposefully flexed the ligament in his cock, reminding her that he was here, wanting, and ready to pleasure her -if she'd _bloody well get on with it_. "I want to make you come until you lose all reality. Please, Mistress. Let me give that to you."

Completely under his spell, she slid her hand down between her thighs and wrapped those alluring fingers around him, positioning him at her entrance, small beads of sweat dripping down the side of her cheek. Draco moved his face closer to hers, capturing her eyes in a tell-all expression that said he was enjoying the submissive nature he was assigned. He stroked his nose against hers, coaxing her, then darted his tongue out and licked at her upper lip. The gesture, though minuscule, was enough to send her over the edge of restraint, and she slipped down on him with a raspy moan.

Fuck… she was so _tight_.

He rocked his pelvis upwards, burying himself as deep as he could go. Hermione met his thrust with a roll of the hips, and together they sparked up a measured, teasing rhythm that soon had them both panting and gasping for breath. "More, Mistress," he hissed in her ear, using every bit of control to keep himself from fighting the ties around his wrists. He was supposed to be compliant, but Draco didn't know how to hand over power without a struggle. He was a Malfoy, after all.

Hermione, in response, sat both of her hands on his shoulders and began to bob up and down on his dick, taking him out to the tip before driving back home and swallowing him whole.. Draco licked at his swollen lips (bruised from all of the passionate kissing) and tasted the sweat that had broken out along his skin. There was nothing - _nothing_ in this world, he thought, that felt better than Hermione riding him for her pleasure. The wanton expression as her mouth fell open and her eyes scrunched closed was delicious. She began to bounce faster on him; her breasts teasingly placed in front of his eye line. He couldn't resist capturing one in his mouth as she jerked her hips into a hot, delectable roll. Above him, he could hear her gasp as he played with her nipple between his teeth while flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. Her movements ceased, caught up in the sensation of Draco's mouth. He smirked, sucking on the tit with attentive care, nursing a slew of low moans from her throat.

"Fuck… Yes, Draco… like that…"

He happily obliged, swirling his tongue around the lovely nipple before trailing feverish kisses over to the other one. She slid her fingers up to the sides of his neck, working his cock slowly now, and Draco matched her with gentle ministrations of his tongue. There was something so erotic, he observed, in the way they connected with each other on a primal level. He never had to second-guess if what he was doing was right. Hermione just went with it, approving every action as if she'd wished for nothing else all her life. Regardless of his hatred towards Weasley, he thought he might just need to send him a postcard thanking him for being such a terrible boyfriend and breaking the young witch's heart. Because, if he had never done that, Draco wouldn't be here now, between Hermione's legs, on his way to giving her the best goddamn orgasm of her entire life.

His mistress gradually picked up the pace, moaning and gasping and biting her lip as she moved her hips against him. Draco closed his eyes, relishing in the sensations of being entirely within her, no condom, just her tight pussy around his stiff cock. Pureblood traditions be damned, this intoxicating muggleborn witch, that went against everything he once stood for, procured an emotion from him that he'd never, in his entire life, been privy to: complete. Ever since he was a child clinging to his mother's coattails, Draco had never felt whole. The emptiness in his life was what had made him adhere to his father's xenophobic notions, had taken him down the wrong path, and landed him that horrid mark across his arm. But here, beneath Hermione Granger, melded as one soul for but a moment… here is where he wanted to stay. With each thrust of her hips, he lost himself in her presence, slipping into the unknown abyss of adoration. How could one simple act of sex be such a significant experience? Perhaps it was because he had given himself over to her with his body that he was able to do so with his mind and soul. Without thinking, he whispered, "I'm yours…"

There were no sweet baby dragons for Draco Malfoy. Just a widening of his eyes as Hermione moved slowly against him, meeting his eyes with a rich understanding of his connotations. She caged his head in her arms as she gripped the back of the chair and began to ride him quicker. "Again. Say it again."

It took sheer willpower not to let his eyes roll in the back of his head at her new speed. "I… fuck, I'm yours, Hermione. All yours."

"More," she mumbled, the skin of her stomach rubbing against his as she gyrated her hips.

Draco groaned in pleasure, throwing his head back. "It's all yours, Hermione. My cock. My body. My…" _heart_ he almost said, but bit down on the inside of his cheek. No, it was much too soon to be thinking those sort of things. He wasn't some gimpy romantic. He was – "Oohhhhh… Gods, yes. Ride me harder." Nope, damn it, it all was hers. Every single bit of it.

"I'm… I'm so close…" she whispered, burying her face into his neck.

"Come for me, _Mistress._ " He bit into the word again, like he had the first time he said it. "I want your pussy dripping. I want you to soak my lap with it."

"I… oh… oh, _God_." She made a sound somewhere between a scream and a whimper as her walls clenched around him. " _Draco_."

Pinching his eyes shut, it took the force of sheer will to keep him from coming along with her. In a moment of passion, he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. Hermione screamed, hips still rolling, riding out the wave of ecstasy that seemed to have intensified at his action. When she had milked her orgasm to the last drop, he released her sure-to-be-aching shoulder and pulled his face back to gaze into her eyes. "Again."

Hermione nodded timidly, working her pace back up, this time creating a slow burn that made Draco's legs instinctively jerk against the restraints. Coming to the conclusion that he wasn't getting out of this chair without her say-so, he only complied by relaxing his posture and giving in to the wondrous sighs that escaped his _girlfriend's_ lips. Hmm… he hadn't considered it much before, but that word just didn't seem proper enough for what they had. Their connection ran deeper. There had to be a better word for what they shared.

He felt her cunt grip tight around him once again, and she gave a satisfied whimper of confirmation.

"Thank you, Mistress," he teased her, giving his hips a quick jerk up so that she could feel every solid inch of him. "Again, please." This time, his voice wasn't begging; it was pleased and provocative.

"You're… enjoying this… way too much," she gasped between pants.

"Am I?" he chuckled. "I think I'm enjoying it," he slammed up inside her, "just the correct amount." Bravely, she pulled her legs tighter against him and the chair, running a set of fingernails down his chest. He hissed a breath, the burn of his skin leaving goosebumps along his arms. "Merlin… do that again." He caught the playful tug of her lips as she brought her nails down, scraping along the muscles in his shoulder. The pain was so exquisite; Draco found himself moaning. "Mmm, yeah."

"Well, well. Draco Malfoy likes a bit of pain."

He smirked. "Doesn't everyone?"

She met his smirk with a coy smile and a blush upon her cheeks. There, she leaned in, hands on his cheeks, and kissed him sensually as she built herself back up, stacking brick by proverbial brick until she let them all fall and her peak of pleasure crash down on her. He felt his body beg for release, and he jerked away from the kiss, suddenly worn and frustrated.

"Hermione…" he tried to keep the growl from finding its way up his throat as he said, "I need… I need to…"

"You want to come, Draco?"

"Oh, _Gods_ yes."

Hermione nudged her nose against his and licked his lips. "Beg me, then."

His chest heaving up and down, Draco caved to her demands. "Please, Hermione-"

"- _Mistress_ -"

"- _Mmm_ … Mistress. Please, let me come. I've been so good…" Draco was appreciative that this was between just the two of them, and that none of his friends would know he begged the Gryffindor-goddess for release. If any of them ever found out, it would be the final nail in his mortified coffin.

"You _have_ been good," she mused. She began to bounce up and down on his lap, just the way he liked it. "But you have to hold out until I've come once more. Think you can manage that, Draco?"

"Mm… mhmm.. yeah…" He clenched his jaw and focused all of his will on not coming inside of her until she was ready for it. He began to count the thrusts, building her up with that dirty talk she liked so well. _One… two… three…_ "Just like that, beautiful. Fuck. Ride that dick. That's it." _Seven… eight… nine…_ "You like feeling every inch of me inside you?"

"Y-Yes!"

 _Twelve… thirteen… fourteen…_ "You're so wet for me, Hermione. So fucking wet. You know what I want you to do for me?"

"What do you want… ohhh…. Me to do?" Her head fell back as her tits bounced up and down in front of his face. _Twenty-one… twenty-two…_

"I want you to reach that unearthly summit of ecstasy, and _then_ I want you to suck me off until I cum in that _pretty little mouth_ of yours." Heh, he was getting rather good at this.

Hermione rocked her hips one last time and fell over the edge of bliss. Draco lost track of counting. He simply smiled and watched the glowing aura of her high shimmer over her. Yeah, he decidedly thought, there was nothing else like watching Hermione Granger come for him.

When she was well spent, she opened her eyes, kissed him feverishly, slipped off of him, and fell to her knees between his legs. The cold air sent shockwaves through Draco's spine, but he didn't have to wait long before Hermione's warm lips were around his cock and the rest of the world melted away. Up and down the wet, hot trail of her tongue danced across his length. Then she began to suck on him -and oh yes, the feeling was brilliantly inspiring. He was in such a state of high that he felt confident enough he could write a sonnet or perhaps the best book ever written. She eagerly fed herself his cock over and over until, with a subtle thrust to push himself all the way in, he spilled his cum into the back of her throat. Hermione held herself there, determined to take every bit of his seed, and only when she was sure he was through, did she pull her mouth up to the tip and swallow, eyes boring into his.

"Fuck…" he whispered, completely in awe. "Th-That was… I mean… I… _fuck_." He dropped his head and closed his eyes, exhausted and spent. He felt her climb back onto his lap and trail kisses down the side of his neck. He smirked, leaning into the touch.

He sensed her lips close to his ear before she murmured, "Mine."

"Yours," he nodded.

Her fingers caressed his cheek. "Stay the night with me."

Draco found the strength to open his eyes back up. He leaned back in his chair, searching over her face until he discovered that sweet innocence in the whites of her eyes once more, and smirked. "Whatever you want."

He watched her face flush cherry-pink, and she kissed him softly on the cheek. "I want another go in twenty."

Draco's lips pulled back into a sinful smirk. "Yes, Mistress."


	19. A Laugh

**So Cursed Child came out! Woot! Half-way done already -when I'm done, I'll let everyone know, and we can PM about the thoughts.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"When The Sun Goes Down" by Arctic Monkeys**

* * *

"Good morning, Hermione…"

 _Hermione walked along the small path on her way to Potions; her book bag slung over her shoulder as her seventeen-year-old-self whistled a little tune. The halls were oddly silent for the time of day, and she wondered where Harry and Ron had run off to…_

"Hey, wake up."

 _She stepped through the threshold of the doorway, glancing about at the different workbenches. Funny… no one had made it to class yet. Wasn't that odd? As she made her way to her seat, another set of footsteps followed her. When she turned her head, she saw it was Professor Malfoy, his icy gray eyes glistening playfully at her arrival. 'Morning Professor!'_

"Hermione, I have rounds to do. Wake up."

 _'Goodmorning, Miss Granger.' The older professor smiled down at her, reaching a hand to the bottom of her skirt. Why was she wearing such a short skirt? And come to think of it, where were her robes? Was it rather hot in here? 'Are you ready for our private lesson?'  
_  
"Oh, for Merlin's... Hermione, you've failed your N.E.W.T.S., and you'll have to do your seventh year over again."

Hermione's eyes shot open and met the confident, charismatic smirk of Draco Malfoy as he hovered above her, propped up on his elbow. His hair was disheveled, and he had several bite marks along his collarbone from the night before, but he was there. Real. In her bed, still here in the morning. His smirk softened to a smile, and he stroked a bit of hair out of her eyes.

"Sorry," she managed to say, still in shock that he had truly kept his word and stayed the entire night. "I… guess I was dreaming."

"Must have been a good dream," he mused, giving her a wink. "Look, I've got morning patrol, but I didn't want to just up and run out on you."

"Oh." She nodded. "Right. That's… thoughtful."

He rolled over onto his back and gave a cat-like stretch. "Yeah, I'm as thoughtful as they _come_."

She didn't miss his double meaning. "And conceited."

Hermione watched him glance playfully over at her. "I didn't hear you complaining _last night_."

"Should I have?"

"No." He rolled back over and wrapped a firm arm around her waist. "You most certainly shouldn't." Soft lips pressed down on hers, and the material of her comforter pulled down, exposing her breasts. Draco grazed his eyes over her chest, nodded in approval, and earned a smack to the arm. "What?"

"You have rounds, remember?"

"Right," he said as if he'd forgotten. "I… I enjoyed last night."

"I did as well."

She saw the flush of his cheeks as he sat upright, giving another lengthy stretch. If Draco was at all shy about the fact that he had been the sub in their games yesterday evening, he hid it very well as he pulled himself out of bed and began to dress. Hermione noted it was still very dark outside, and checked the clock on the wall.

"It's five in the morning."

"Oh, good. You can tell time." He smirked as he slipped into his trousers.

"Why are you leaving so early? Morning rounds don't begin until six."

"If you haven't noticed, I didn't exactly come prepared with my work robes."

"Oh. Right," she said timidly, following his hands as they buttoned up his white shirt. When he finished, he scooped up his socks and took a seat at the edge of the bed. Bravely, Hermione sat up and scooted over behind him draping her arms around his torso. "Can't you stay a bit longer?"

She felt his warm, lengthy fingers lace between hers, and he tugged her closer so that her head rested in the crook of his neck. "Anxious to get me back in your bed, Hermione?"

The question made her heart flutter. There was something so thrilling about having woken up to the sound of his voice and the sight of his steely eyes. Last night had been an adventure for both of them, and she had half-expected him to change his mind and walk out on her before she woke. Inhaling the scent of his skin, Hermione kissed along the curve of his neck and smiled. "Don't pretend that you wouldn't enjoy it."

"I wouldn't dare tell such a lie," he chuckled, bringing one of her hands up to kiss along her knuckles. "It's odd…"

"What is?"

"I know I need to go, but finding the will to is something else entirely."

"Is that odd?"

"For me, it is."

She leaned up just a bit further to kiss his cheek. "Well, then. That's something, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he mused, turning his head to give her a slow, sensual kiss. Hermione pulled away first, untwining her arms so that he could make to stand. Draco did, reluctantly, and bent over to retrieve the last bit of his wardrobe- the pair of diamond cufflinks he had discarded during his disrobing. He waved them in front of her. Hermione raised an eyebrow, offering her hand out, and watched as he dropped them into her palm. "Remember what I told Liam? About showing off a woman like a pair of these?" He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Hold on to those for me. Gives me an excuse to come back." With a strut in his step and his head held high, Draco gave her one last playful look before he exited out her door to change and make his rounds. Hermione stared down at the oval pair of jewelry in amazement. One of these diamonds alone could probably feed a family of four for a month. To leave something so expensive behind meant that Draco either cared very little if he lost them, or, more likely, he trusted Hermione a great deal.

She squeezed the cufflinks in her hands and laid back down on her pillow. Somewhere, in the thick of things, she had developed quite a stir of feelings for him, and she was sure she never wanted to go back to the way things were before.

* * *

Neville tried, over the course of the next day, his best attempts in approaching Hermione, but failed miserably every time. Sunday at breakfast, he'd choked on his porridge while trying to get out a 'Hello', too embarrassed by his memories of the pictures from Malfoy's cigar box to say much of anything else. At lunch, Malfoy had joined them, so that had put a damper on telling Hermione her days with a man-toy were beneath her. It was even worse when he soon realized that she and Malfoy meant to play it cool, hardly looking at each other, but when opportunity arose, they'd blush profusely.

Dinner wasn't much better when Hermione had asked Malfoy to pass the mashed potatoes.

"Yes, Mistre- Miss Granger."

Neville could only speculate as to that one. He pushed it aside -he didn't want to come to the conclusion.

That night, he went to bed feeling less like a bold Gryffindor and more like a timid kneazle. Maybe, he thought as he paced his bedroom, he should try approaching Malfoy first.

And that's exactly what he did. He found the Professor tucked away in his hobbit hole of the dungeons, stewing over ungraded Potion's essays at nearly ten at night. Neville knocked politely on the edge of the open door, and silver eyes flickered up to him irritably.

"What do you want, Longbottom?" Malfoy kept his usual sneer lodged upon his face as he slammed down a particularly lengthy parchment.

"Having a rough go of it?" asked Neville, nudging to the essay.

Malfoy raised a suspicious eyebrow but gave up trying to figure out whatever the Herbology professor was up to and sighed, loosening his tie around his neck. "This student wouldn't know the difference between wormwood and barked wood if it came up and smacked him in the face. -If you've come to ask me for something, I haven't the time. So why don't you just turn around out that door and leave me be? Hmm?"

"We both know I can't do that." Neville checked behind him to assure they wouldn't be overheard, and strolled up to one of the vacant seats on the front work bench, directly in front of Malfoy's desk.

"Oh sure," Malfoy mumbled, "Go ahead and take a seat anywhere. Uninvited. Really. It's fine." His voice seethed with sarcasm.

"I want to talk to you about Hermione."

There was a change in Malfoy, though to someone who didn't know any better, they might not be able to spot it; his posture straightened, and his eyebrows drew together. He still kept that calm demeanor, but Neville noticed that Malfoy's hand began to shake. "Yeah? What'd the perfectionist do now? Show you up in your class?"

"Hermione wouldn't…" Neville began but faltered at the realization. "Alright, maybe she would." He saw the corners of Malfoy's mouth tug upwards in amusement, though he kept his eyes trained on his graded paperwork. "What I mean to say is, I know that there's something going on between the two of you." He was aware that coming directly outright might land him a pop in the nose, so a softer approach would be best.

Malfoy's hand twitched and scraped a red line across the page. "I assure you, Longbottom, whatever you think is going on is off by at least one hundred and eighty degrees."

"So I didn't see you sneaking off into her room last night?"

So much for subtly. The Potions professor's eyes flickered up away from the essay and, if looks could kill, Neville would be a shriveled bug on the sidewalk after being smashed a thousand time by Malfoy's foot. "Never took you much for a voyeur, Longbottom," he said dryly, "But I assure you, you're not the first I've found that roams these halls."

 _Yeah, I bet you've had plenty of clients who enjoy a good peep show_ , Neville growled inwardly. "I want you to stop what you're doing with Hermione." Malfoy snorted a laugh, and Neville almost lost his nerve. "I mean it."

He watched as Malfoy grabbed up a spare bit of parchment, dipped his quill in some ink, and scribbled something down. Then he thrust it out and handed it to Neville. He snatched it up and read the words.

 _ **'Bugger off.'** _ It was written in plumed, meticulous script.

Neville crumpled up the parchment and tossed it behind him. "No," he said simply.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. No. I won't 'bugger off.' I wouldn't care if you were doing this with anyone else -but this is Hermione we're talking about. You know this isn't like her. I don't know why you're taking advantage of her in her delicate state, but it needs to come to a head and end."

To Neville's horror, Malfoy scooted his chair back and stood with an air that would have made Professor Snape proud. Eyes like daggers, he walked slowly around his desk, crossed his arms, and stood directly in front of Neville. "Let me spell this out for you in words you simpletons understand: if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll knock your head off of your shoulders so fast, Nearly Headless Nick will be envious of you for your admission into the Headless Hunt."

His heart sped up. "Was that a threat?"

"Consider it a warning. Leave business that isn't yours alone."

"Yeah, well this 'business' of yours is bloody disgusting."

Malfoy lost his cool in a second, slamming his hands down onto the table. "How _dare_ you?"

 _Oh, did that push his buttons? Excellent_ , Neville thought. "Don't tell me you think you're doing her any favors?"

"Get out of my classroom."

"And if I don't? -I'm not going anywhere until I get your word that you're going to end this with Hermione. Today."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You think you can just come here and tell us how to live our lives? Where do you get off?"

"Where do you!?" Neville pushed out of his chair and squared him up. "Oh. Wait. I'm pretty sure I know. Probably between the legs of any beautiful woman who offers herself to you, hmm?"  
 _  
_Malfoy trained his wand on him in a flash, fire flaring in his eyes. "Take that _back_."

"Go on! Try to deny it!"

"I don't have to deny anything, nor do I need to prove myself to the likes of _you_. But let me make one thing clear -if you so much as insinuate that I'm seeing other women behind Hermione's back, I'll shove my wand so far up your arse you'll be throwing curses every time you open your mouth."

Neville narrowed his eyes. "Oh please. You don't scare me. Once you slice the head off a twenty-foot snake, you tend to take the rest of life's threats with a grain of salt. -Besides, we both know you're all talk."

"Am I?" Malfoy quirked up both of his eyebrows. "You sure you want to take the chance on it?"

The men glared each other down for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes. Finally, Neville broke the silence (and the stare-off.) "Why are you playing it like you care about her?"

"Because, Longbottom, I _do_."

Malfoy was so convincing that Neville almost believed him for a moment -until he remembered the fact that Hermione had paid for the 'boyfriend' package. That had to be why Malfoy was acting so protective. Because, as of this moment, maybe Hermione was his only source of income? He wasn't sure, but that would be the only logical explanation. There was no way that Malfoy actually cared. "Drop the act."

"Act?"

"Look, I'm sure around Hermione, she might find this endearing. But for me, it's just disgusting. Quit pretending you care about her and let's get down to semantics. How much would it cost to keep you away from her?"

"I'm insulted you'd think for even a moment that there could be a price on our relationship."

It was Neville's turn to laugh. "That's rich, coming from someone like you. What do you think McGonagall would say if she knew about the two of you?"

"I don't think she'd bloody well care! And neither should you. What Hermione and I do behind closed doors is none of anyone's business."

Oh, wow! The nerve of this man. "You're deranged- you know that?"

"Get. _Out_."

"Fine. I'm going." Neville threw his hands up. "But I'm going to put an end to this, one way or another." He stormed to the door, ready to slam it on the way out, when Malfoy said in a softer, less threatening voice, "If you care about Hermione, you'll stay out of this."

Neville turned to him. "I'm doing this because I care about her. And if you have any shred of dignity, you wouldn't put her reputation on the line like this. If anyone knew about the two of you, what do you think they'd say?"

* * *

Draco was fuming. He could feel his magic prickle the back of his neck. How _dare_ Neville Longbottom say that Draco was beneath Hermione! Well, he had to admit, he'd been beneath her last night -but for an entirely separate reason! That insolent little cur thought he could judge him just because of his Death Eater past? He had to think of a way to come out on top of this situation, and quickly.

"Let me guess. You plan on talking this over with Hermione next since you were unable to sway me?"

"That's exactly right."

"I see." He nodded his head, walking up and down the length of his classroom, hands behind his back, eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

"Just out of curiosity, who approached who?"

"What?"

"Did you just offer yourself out like some cheap dime-store whore, or what?"

"Dime-store…?" Draco could literally hear the ' _click_ ' inside his mind as he put the pieces together. Longbottom's voyeurism -he'd interrupted that small episode in front of Hermione's door last night? Oh. This was rich. This was sweeter than a sugar quill. Longbottom didn't dislike him because of his Death Eater status -he legitimately thought that Hermione's roleplay suggestion was the real deal. It took everything in him not to burst into uncontrollable laughter. _No, stifle it, Draco. How can you use this to your advantage?_ "She approached me, actually." He fought back the urge to grin, instead casting up one of his smirks. "Practically begged me for it. Is that what you want to hear, Longbottom?"

The look he procured from Neville was priceless; his face reddened, his eyes went wide, and he saw his hand twitch for his wand. "You lie."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Draco shrugged. "Either way, you know it's not polite to skulk in dark corners, Longbottom."

"I… I wasn't…! I didn't…!"

"Didn't you?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "I see why you're so up in arms. I didn't offer my services to _you,_ did I?" He grinned maniacally. "It's four thousand galleons for an evening out, ten thousand if you want to hold hands. I don't think you could afford much else, taking into account your appearance."

"I- I don't want to _hire_ you!"

"So you _do_ think I'm for hire." Draco couldn't hold it back any longer -he sniggered into the back of his hand, shook his head, and shoved Neville out the door, turning to go back to his paperwork.

"What's that mean!?" He heard the other man shout, confusion in his voice. "Oi! Malfoy! What the Hell does that mean!?"

He turned his head back, still laughing. "It means, Longbottom, that you're just about as bright as a black crayon, and I assume that you ate lead paint as a child. Stay out of our business, will you? Or I'm sure Hermione would love to hear that you rubbed one off while watching us fool around."

"I never did that!"

"Shame… it'd be your word against mine. Who do you think she'd believe? You've already admitted to watching us. -Don't worry, Professor L. As Granger says in her classroom, it's perfectly normal for erections to occur when looking at something stimulating."

"You're a tosser."

"And you put the _ass_ in assuming. We're even. Tell anyone else about this, and I'll be sure to drop a word to the Headmistress who _really_ put that stink bomb in my room. That's for admitting to that." With a nudge of his fingers, he spelled the door shut on Neville Longbottom's nose, chuckling all the while. As he took his seat once more, he tapped his fingers on the desk and grinned. He supposed he'd have to tell Hermione about this eventually to clear it all up- but for now, he rather enjoyed letting Longbottom stew in his muck of assumptions until morning's light.


	20. A Rivalry

Hey **guys!** Sorry **it took me so long to post. In-laws are in town, and I released a new chapter of HTTYA2 and a new story titled 'Bond' (** dramione **). Go check it out if you have the time!**

 **A special thank you to WayMay for encouraging me to make Neville talk all 'Herbology' in this chapter. LOVE YOU WAY!**

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Lane" by Twenty One Pilots**

* * *

It never occurred to Hermione that, behind her back, Draco tortured Neville any chance he could over the humiliating misunderstanding that took place over the dear Professor L being a snoop in the name of friendship. Sure, she did catch that Neville blushed deep shades of red when he looked her in the eyes, and she couldn't help but notice Draco sniggering into the back of his hand when the two of them would pass Neville in the hallways. But she chalked it up to some deep-seeded rivalry between the two men from their adolescent years. She never dreamed, in a million years, Neville would assume Draco a male-escort, and she most certainly didn't think Neville would think she'd hire anyone for sex in the first place.

So, when she told Draco she wanted to include Neville in their combined lesson on 'Practices for Safe Sex', she couldn't understand why he barreled forward, laughing into the library desk they shared on this quiet Tuesday afternoon between lessons.

"What's so funny?" she frowned, nudging him under the table with her foot. She caught him in the ankle, which seemed to be his Achilles heel, because he jerked upright, seething in pain.

"Tell me," he said, resting his face in his hand with an amused grin, "Why should we include Longbottom in our lessons, again?"

"Because he's the Herbology Professor, and his insight into the ingredients we'll be going over in your potions could shed some insight into what kind of components the students will be working with. We want to be as thorough as possible, don't we?"

She saw his eyes flicker with a hint of naughtiness the same time she felt his foot trail up the side of her leg. "Speaking of thorough," he said in a soft, raspy voice, "Maybe we could check another item off of our list?"

She blanched, glancing around the library bustling with students. "Now?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, not now. You really are an adventurous witch, aren't you?" His smirk caused her to blush. "But soon. Being a Professor has, indeed, gotten in the way of our bonding time. If I have to grade one more shoddy attempt at a three-foot parchment on the ingredients of Polyjuice potion, it will be too soon."

"Bonding time?" She laughed. "Is that what you call it?"

"Wouldn't you?" He chanced a wink in her direction before a group of first years bustled past them. "I feel a connection every time I get an opportunity to lick that delicious—Oof!"

Hermione kicked him hard in the shins as Lidia Cornelia approached the table, a basket in her hands and a grin on her face. "Good afternoon, Professors!"

"Hello, Lidia," Hermione smiled, casting a warning glance over to Draco for him to not dare finish that sentence. He turned his attention, instead, on the young witch and gestured to her basket.

"Going on a picnic, Cornelia?"

"No, Sir." She sat the basket down on the table; it landed with a _thud_. "I asked my Mum to bake me some of her world-famous muffins, croissants, and short breads, amongst others. She works at a three Michelin star restaurant dedicated to pastries. -It's my way of thanking you for what you did, you know, with Liam and me."

"Isn't that considered bribery?" Draco razzed, though he still pulled the basket towards his side of the table and peeked in. "Are these blueberry flavored?" He cast a playful grin to Hermione. Yet again, he found the tip of her shoe coming into contact with his ankle. He could be such a cur sometimes.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Lidia, but there was no need."

"You hush your mouth," Draco snatched up a muffin from the mix and rolled it across the table to her. "When there are sweets involved, always say thank you and dig in."

"Professor Malfoy has an exceptional sweet tooth," Hermione said to the young witch. "I think you have his vote of silence. -And mine as well. You have our thanks."

"Thank you both," Lidia grinned. "And thanks to you, Liam's written his Mum and Dad about us!"

Draco's eyes flickered from his strudel to Lidia. "Did he now?"

"Yes. And, while they're not very pleased, they've decided to give us their blessing. Something about young love never working out in the long run -but the joke's on them, because we've practically been inseparable since we met. Even if things don't work out, they'll still have to put up with me in one way or another." She waved her professors off and skipped on to another table a few rows down next to Liam and a group of peers.

"Look at what you've done," Hermione said, pleased.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What'd I do?"

"You inspired Liam to come clean about his relationship with Lidia. That's impressive."

"Impressive enough to earn me something off of that list?" Draco asked as he finished off the last of his strudel before biting into a tart.

"You've become obsessive."

He shrugged. "So back to this Longbottom business…"

"Oh. Yes. -I was thinking, maybe you should be the one to ask him."

"Why…."

"Because you two would need to go over the details together, since hardly any of this falls back to me this time around, except to reiterate condoms and muggle birth control."

"So, when you said you wanted Longbottom as a part of the lesson, what you _really_ meant was that you wanted us to work together."

"Yes. Exactly that."

Draco groaned, bouncing in his chair like a two-year-old. "If I do this, I want three things off of my list. At the same time. By yesterday."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her muffin. "Sure, Draco. Whatever you'd like."

* * *

Neville hated this time of the year, because it was the changing of the season for the Mandragoras. No doubt, he'd walk into the second year greenhouse to find pots and plants knocked off their shelving as the Mandrakes reached their adolescence. Finicky little bastards, they were, and while he used to find them fascinating, nowadays, they only seemed to build to his ever-growing list of problems.

The past few weeks had been difficult, to say the least. Malfoy's threat of turning Neville in to the Headmistress for his (now what he deemed to be idiotic) prank kept him at arm's length from discussing his knowledge to Hermione of her tryst with Malfoy. And it didn't help that Malfoy would make suggestive faces as Hermione walked past him, or leave mock-up lists of services under his office door. The worst of it was Hermione seemed _happier_. She practically glowed when she walked into the Great Hall for meals, and during the Professors' meeting last week in McGonagall's office, he swore to Godric himself he caught her and Malfoy holding hands under the table. He, at the very least, had spotted them brushing legs up against each other.

"Longbottom," a crisp, irritating voice resounded behind him, causing him to stop mid stride in the courtyard on his way to the greenhouse. Neville clenched his fists, took in a deep breath through his nose, and exhaled. Slowly, he turned around and spotted Malfoy a few yards off, leaned up next to a pear tree, arms crossed and face as snooty as ever. "Have a moment?"

"Not really, no," Neville mumbled. "Why?"

"You've been recruited."

"For what?"

"For Sex Ed."

Neville could practically feel the blood leaving his heart and rushing into his cheeks and ears. Though the sun glistened in the sky above, that still didn't stop his body from shimmering in fresh goosebumps. "I… Excuse me?"

"Sexual Education," Malfoy smirked, pushing himself off of the tree to take a few steps closer. "I know that's not something you're cultured in, but for some reason, Hermione thinks you'll be of use."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Call her Hermione."

"It's her name."

"Her given name. Something to which you have no privilege to."

"That's odd." Malfoy stepped closer now, right up Neville's personal bubble of space. "Because she's always _begging_ me to whisper it in her ear when she's pressed beneath me."

Neville blinked once, resisting the urge to go for his wand. No. He wouldn't be goaded by something so childish. "She wouldn't be enlisting you for that sort of thing if she found a proper wizard."

"You think so?"

"I know it."

"Right. Well," Malfoy shrugged, "I suppose she doesn't prefer the company of a 'proper' wizard when she's been _properly_ satiated. -We both know how much you wish it were you, but let's face it. She has standards."

Something unhinged in Neville, and an expression of deep disgust found its way upon his face. "Standards? No, Malfoy. She's just scraped at the bottom of the barrel. That's all you are."

Malfoy nodded. "Just remember, _Long_ bottom, she turned you down and then chose _me_. So what does that say about you?"

Prying his eyes away to the ground, Neville crossed his arms and focused on a bit of grass beneath his scuffed shoes. He'd asked himself that very same question over and over again as he tossed in his bed for sleep. "What does Hermione need me to do for her class?" He didn't want to let her down -he was still her friend, after all.

"So very glad you asked." Malfoy untucked a folded parchment from his pockets and handed it to him. "We're covering contraceptive potions, and I know that a few of these ingredients fall under Herbology curriculum. _Hermione_ and I," he said it as if they were a team, which irritated Neville even more, "would like you to discuss the list of ingredients I've given you. We both know what happens if you don't follow the correct steps when making those kind of contraceptive potions. I mean, that's what happened to your parents, isn't it?"

"You are, by far, the biggest prick I've ever come to know."

"You flatter me."

Both men glared at one another, and then Neville nodded. "Tell Hermione I'll do it -but for _her_. Not you."

"I wouldn't think it'd be for me. Or are you holding a secret candle in my honor? I've told you, Longbottom; you can't afford me."

"I wasn't finished. I'll do it for her. Not you. But you'll owe me."

"Pardon?"

It was Neville's turn to smirk. "We both know you wouldn't want to let Hermione down. It'd be a shame if I told her how much of an arrogant ass you've been, and how that deterred me from helping with your Sexual Education class."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

It was then Neville thought up his brilliant plan -like a bolt of lightning from the heavens that sped down into his mind. He'd never be able to muster up enough courage on his own to talk to Hermione about all of this; but if he had a confidence potion, he just might. And Malfoy was going to brew it for him.

"I want your help in brewing a potion for me."

"Seriously?" The blonde arched an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Alright. Sure. Why not. You do this class. I'll make you a potion. What do you want? Something to make those ears of yours shrink? I'm not sure there's a potion strong enough for that."

"Bugger off." Neville turned on his heels and stomped off in the direction of the greenhouse once more while listening to Malfoy laugh at his departure.

* * *

"Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Neville!" Hermione clapped her hands excitedly as Longbottom helped her set up the projector screen from previous lessons. Draco watched from his spot at the podium, not wanting to get his hands dirty and, also, just not wanting to be anywhere near Neville. Though he was having fun watching the worm squirm, he still felt miffed at Longbottom's assumption and had to remind himself continuously not to hex the Herbology Professor whenever he caught sight of him.

Draco Malfoy? A slut for hire? The nerve…

"You're most welcome, Hermione," Longbottom said as he finished his work. "Although, I'm not sure how much help I'll be."

"Nonsense," said Draco, "You're already a shining example of abstinence. After all, when the children are reminded that they could reproduce someone like you, it'll send their irreverent thoughts running for the hills."

"Draco!" Hermione scolded.

"What?" he smirked.

"It's alright, Hermione. I've already told you: I ignore him. Maybe the children will finally have a proper male role model to look up to."

"Are we entirely sure you're male? I mean, none of us have ever seen your downstairs mix-up to be sure…"

"Bet you'd love that…" Neville sneered under his breath so that only Draco could hear. "Lay off, would you?"

"And if I don't?"

"Not everyone deals in threats, Malfoy. I, for instance, am going to ask you out of the assumption that you could surprise us all and act like a decent individual for once."

"You'll be sorely disappointed."

"Will you two stop it?" Hermione looked between them. "Honestly, you've been at each other's throats quite a bit more than usual." She put up her hands to silence them. "Second thought. Scratch that. Tell me after lessons." She then walked off to speak to a group of seventh year Gryffindors, leaving the two men alone together.

"I'm going to tell her," Longbottom said, approaching Draco. "One way, or another."

"As I've told you, you breathe a word of this to anyone and-"

"-Do you get off on poorly woven threats?"

"No," Draco leaned forward on the podium so that they were eye to eye. "I just get off on Professor Granger."

He watched Neville's ears turn scarlet as he scurried away, cursing under his breath. Good. Served him right. Did he truly think it was endearing to butt his nose into Hermione's personal sex life in the first place?

* * *

"You're going to do great, Neville," Hermione told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Chin up. Eyes forward."

"I teach lessons every day," he said to her, "I can handle this."

"Right." She pushed a piece of paper into his hand.

"What's this?"

"Your introduction into the lesson."

Neville glanced down and shot his head back up, all the color drained from his face. He gave her a pleading look. "I… maybe you should read this. It's your curriculum, after all."

"Nonsense. You'll do wonderfully."

* * *

"G-Good evening," Neville started to the seventh years, who had gotten a case of the 'senioritis.' Hermione tapped her wand on the podium, sending red sparks from the tip to gather their attention. She nodded encouragingly, and he continued. "Professor Granger asked me to give an introduction into…" Oh, Rowena's great hat, she didn't actually expect him to use this terminology, did she? He didn't know if he could openly address seventeen-year-olds with the words 'vagina' and 'penis' and 'intercourse' without trembling like a mandrake in mating season. "Into…" Somehow, Malfoy had made his way down to the Slytherin table, smirking from the edge of it while leaning his face in his hand. He looked pleased at Neville's discomfort, and it only made things worse for the dear Herbology teacher. So, Neville did what he did best in awkward situations; his thoughts went to plants.

"Professor Granger," he began again, watching Malfoy give an exaggerated yawn, "has asked me here to discuss with you the importance of proper pollination." Yes. If he spoke this way, he might make it through without vomiting all over the front row.

"Proper pollination, Professor?" shouted Malfoy, smirking.

Neville narrowed his eyes. "Yes. To put it in terms that are simple: everyone gets interested in gardening, sooner or later. If you apply safe, practical ways of pollinating your flowers, when the time is right, then you'll grow a beautiful garden. But if you rush into it, you might end up with a bunch of weeds."

Seventh year Hufflepuff Glenda Barth raised her hand. "Professor… er… what are you… I'm not sure we understand the topic tonight."

Hermione rushed up next to Neville, jerking the paper from his hands. "Safe sex! We're going to be discussing safe sex!"

A wave of ohs and ahs flowed through the Great Hall, and Neville slumped his shoulders. "Sorry, Hermione."

"It's alright, Neville. Why don't you go sit with the Gryffindors, and I'll call you up when I need you?" She waited until he was properly squished between a group of seventh year boys before she continued. "Tonight, Professors Malfoy, Longbottom, and I will walk you through the different practices of preventing pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases, and sexually transmitted infections. And yes, there is a difference." She gestured to the projector, walking and talking through the muggle ways of condoms, how they fit around a penis (Neville cringed), birth control pills (which sounded like dangerous muggle alchemy), and vasectomies (Oh MERLIN, they could do that to your testicles?!) He exchanged glances with a paled Malfoy, and both men, in that moment, shared a quiet understanding of horror.

"Now, I'd like to give the floor to Professor Malfoy and Professor L, who will be going over the ingredients needed to brew a contraceptive potion. Gentlemen!"

Malfoy sauntered his way to the podium and transfigured it into a workbench as Neville waved his wand at the projector to prepare for their lesson. They hadn't gone over it together in practice, so there was no telling just how this lesson would go. Neville always liked to be prepared, but it seemed Malfoy liked to work under pressure.

"Contraceptive potions are tricky buggers," began Malfoy, "so don't attempt it unless you are absolutely confident in your talents of brewing, or you're willing to take the risk of having a bundle screaming, restless nights, and making diaper changing your profession." He smirked at the paled students. "Now that I have your attention, perhaps Professor L would like to go over a few key ingredients that are used." His gaze lulled over to Neville.

"T-Thank you, Professor Malfoy." Though he didn't mean it. Still, _manners maketh man_. "One of the key ingredients in making a contraceptive potion is ground wiggentree bark." He waved his wand, and the projector lit to life, showing bits of closely examined bark. "It is a rare tree that is usually inhabited by bowtruckles, as we've gone over in our lessons. This bark, if used improperly, could potentially, quite literally, make your _wood_ into _wood_."

"Wood?" shouted a Slytherin boy from the back.

"Erection," Hermione interjected.

"You mean to tell me," that same Slytherin boy said, "that if I used that bark the wrong way, I could turn my hard on into wood?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Neville clicked the projector, and pulled two phials from his pockets. They both held some type of fine powder the color of seaweed. "If you're not careful, you have the potential for a lot of things to go wrong. For example- one of these phials belongs to the _grogoreous_ herb family, which will help prevent unwanted pregnancies. The other is ground mandrake. Can someone tell me which is which?"

A raven-haired Ravenclaw threw her hand up into the air and pointed to the phial on his left. "That's the _grogoreous_ herb, Sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Neville exchanged glances with Malfoy, allowing himself to smile. "Incorrect." He turned his eyes back to the student. "Congratulations, Miss Waltz, you've just turned your boyfriend's pickle green."

Waltz fell back into her chair, mortified.

"The same thing can happen if you place too much essence of poppy into enhancement spells. Plants are not to be taken lightly, and should you put too much or too little of them into your Potions, you're going to end up with disastrous results."

"Like enhancement potions!" Hermione piped in, stepping up between Malfoy and Neville.

"Enhancement potions, Professor?" asked one of her Gryffindor students.

"Do we need to spell it out for you?" Malfoy chimed in. "Potions that enhance certain characteristics someone might feel are inadequate." He gestured to Neville. "For example, if Professor L grew tired of his exceptionally large ears, or small undercarriage, an enhancement potion could, temporarily, fix these issues."

The Great Hall burst into chuckles, and Neville's face matched his Gryffindor themed tie -red and bold. He loosened said tie in an attempt to calm himself, and then said in a cool tone, "But if you're not careful, it's possible the effects of the potion, when adding the wrong ingredients, could result in permanent damage. -How do you think Professor Malfoy got that big head of his?"

The classroom roared with applause and whistles. Hermione frowned at Neville, silently scolding him. She also cast a deathly glare to Malfoy, who rolled his eyes and looked down at his hand as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Point being," Neville continued, "if you aren't careful when identifying the correct plants and herbs used for these types of potions, you could quite literally sprout flowers from your _flower_ , if you get my meaning."

"Know from personal experience, Professor Longbottom?" Malfoy sneered.

He really hoped Hermione was on the potion. Godric only knew what everyone would say if she and Malfoy were to reproduce under their circumstances. He supposed that would be one advantage of sleeping with a Potion's Professor- he wasn't likely to muck things up in his own profession.

"Class, take five!" Hermione shouted, throwing her hands up. "Pull out your parchment and write five inches of notes that you've learned in this lesson so far." She stalked her way towards the back of the Great Hall, over near the Professors' table, and motioned for Neville and Malfoy to follow.

* * *

Hermione had no idea what was going on between Draco and Neville, but she did know she would put a stop to it here and now. How dare they bicker during lessons? They were supposed to be professionals, for Pete's sake!

She crossed her arms as both men approached and threw them heated glares. "Spill it. Now. What in the name of Hogwarts is going on between you two? And don't you lie to me."

* * *

Draco smirked, knowing just how to answer to place the cherry on top of fucking with Neville Longbottom. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really should have told you before now." He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Longbottom's figured us out."

The look he procured from Longbottom was priceless -he was a pasty, ridged statue of embarrassment.

"He… he did?" Hermione looked between her friend and her boyfriend, confused. "How did you… did you tell him, Draco?"

"Nope." He grinned at his girlfriend, loving the exquisite nature of this misunderstanding. "He's just too clever for us."

"Oh." She turned her head to the Herbology Professor, her eyes softening. "Oh, Neville. Is that why you've been so sour?" She stepped forward and threw her arms around him. "You could have come and talked to me about it. We just wanted to keep things quiet because of Ron. You know how he can get."

Draco had to bite his lower lip to keep the fit of laughter from spilling from his throat.

"Hermione," Longbottom said, patting her on the back awkwardly. "I… I'm not sure I approve of…"

"Oh, don't you start in on that, Neville Longbottom!" Hermione scolded, releasing him and giving him a what-for expression. "Draco and I are perfectly happy."

"Yeah, but… I-I mean… don't you think it's a bit… weird? What do you think your parents would say if they knew?"

"They'd be happy for me that I've found someone."

"Not like this, Hermione." He motioned to Draco, who held a pleased smirk. Maybe he should clear all this up… or maybe, he should just stay silent and see what would happen. "You're better than this."

"Neville." She shook her head. "I expected you to be more tolerant."

"Tolerant?" he squeaked out, "What you're doing isn't common, Hermione."

"We can talk about this later," she told him, patting him on the shoulder. "All I ask is that you keep this between us, for now. Can you do that, please? If word got out… well, we're just not ready to go public about it, yet." Draco watched as Neville Longbottom blanched to the color of parchment.

"Tell me this is all some sort of sick joke," he whispered.

"The only thing that's a joke around here, Longbottom, is that tie." Draco smirked, turning his attention to Hermione. "Shouldn't we be getting back to lessons?"

"Yes. Yes we should." Hermione patted Longbottom's shoulder once more. "Thank you for being so understanding, Neville. You really are a great friend."

"Yes, Longbottom." Draco walked up to him and patted his cheek. "Such a good _friend_."


	21. A Letter

**WayMay and I have been working on a little Dramione of our own (all miss WayMay's plot, with some of my quips) titled: Empire by _waymay._ The link is on my author's page. Give it a go! You won't be disappointed!**

* * *

Thank you WayMay, for being awesome. And for editing this chapter. ROCKS ZE SOCKZ YOU DO!

 **I want to thank everyone for your continued support for Sex Ed, How To Train Your Auror (1 &2) and Bond. I have no idea how I've managed to captivate so many of you, but I want to continue to give you the best damn Dramione I can muster. Thank you to everyone who has followed, reviewed, and favorited my stories, as well as my penname. Without you, my words would be that. Just words. Thank you for bringing them to life.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Nina" by Ed Sheeran**

* * *

The letter had been scribbled in shaky script.

' _Hermione,_

 _I'm sorry for the way I was in Hogsmeade, and for how I ended things. I was an ass. A real ass. I want to make it up to you. Can we please have lunch together on a weekend that you're free? I want to catch up and talk. That's it. If you don't want to, I understand, but I can't sit here and pretend that everything is fine between us when it isn't. I want to explain myself, and give you chance to talk._

 _Think about it?_

 _Love always, Ron.'_

Draco stared evenly down at the letter on Hermione's desk, his heart pounding away in his chest. "Are you going to go?"

Hermione sat on top of her bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes on the back of his head. "I think I should at least hear him out."

"Oh yes, by all means, hear the dolt out." His voice cracked, feeling the tension build behind his sternum. It was like someone was twisting his heart around and around in his chest until it might burst from pressure. "That sounds like a brilliant idea."

"You don't need to be that way."

"What way?"

"Jealous."

He snorted a dry laugh. "Jealous? Of Weaselbee? Don't make me laugh."

"I wasn't joking, Draco. It's obvious you don't want me to go."

"Good. I'm glad."

"But I'm going anyway."

He stiffened, turning his head over his shoulder to glare at her. "Why?"

"Because he's my friend. And because if I don't, it'll just cause more problems later." She rose to stand and crossed the room to him, placing her hand in his, even though he still had his back turned to her. "You've nothing to worry about."

"Worry? Who said I was worried?"

"Aren't you?"

He sighed, turning his head back towards the desk. "Of course not." His voice turned cold. "I should go. I have papers to grade." He pulled his hand out of hers and started for the door, but Hermione grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. "Let go of me." It wasn't so much as a command as a request. He looked crestfallen.

"No. Stop being a dolt."

"I'm being a dolt?"

"Yes, you are."

He cast her a calculated smirk. "Come on, Hermione. You and I both know the reason he's written you is to get into your pretty little knickers."

"That's not true."

"No?" He stepped closer.

"No."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes." She grinned. "Because, at this moment, I'm not wearing any."

Draco released an anxious breath, his shoulders loosening and his mood shifting. He laughed right along with her, reached over, wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead. "Alright, you cheeky witch. But expect to make it up to me when you return."

"Of course…" She kissed under his chin. "Look at you, being an adult about these sort of things."

"Don't push it, Hermione."

She laughed. He laughed. They both smiled at one another. Another stepping stone to pass, and they were balancing on their toes.

* * *

Ron fidgeted nervously across the table from Hermione, the collar of his button up adding to the already building redness of his face while being in close proximity to her. She poked at her meat and potatoes plate with little interest, still not finding the will to look up and see those blue eyes that had broken her heart so long ago.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said finally, looking around the small diner they resided in to avoid staring. "I mean… Just, thanks for everything, really."

Hermione's fork clinked against her plate as she stabbed a potato violently. "Why are we here, Ron?"

His shoulders fell, downcast. "I'm not really sure." He flickered his eyes up towards her, hopeful. "What say we get out of here and walk?"

Against her better judgment, Hermione let her eyes rise to his, and she nodded. "Alright." They both sat the appropriate amount of money on the table, neither one having touched their food, and left. Stepping out into the bright light of Diagon Alley, they met the busy shoppers cramming through the streets. Hermione was almost slammed into by a plump man with a silver beard and way too many books in his hands -Ron tugged her back by the shoulder, and she felt herself pressed up against his chest as he forced her out of the way. Her body tensed, and her face slowly trailed up to his, both looking rather embarrassed.

"Er… sorry," Ron said, backing up into the wall to give her space. "Didn't want you to get smashed."

"No. Um. It's alright." Hermione tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, which burned hot with mortification. "Thanks."

"Welcome." Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Wanna walk, then?"

"Lets."

They strolled side by side, falling into step with the crowd. Eventually, Ron began to talk.

"I was a real idiot, Hermione," he rubbed the back of his head, "The way I ended it… It was awful. Like, really awful. I can't believe I just walked out on you like that."

"I can't believe you did, either," she said crisply.

"I was a fucking idiot."

A witch walking with her child shot Ron a venomous glare for his language, and he blanched, waving at her. She turned her head, snootily, and picked up the pace to get far away from them.

"Anyways, I'm sorry for it. You were asking me for something that I was uncomfortable with, and, instead of talking to you about it, I shut down."

"Let me guess. Ginny told you that?"

"My sister's too smart for her own good, sometimes." Ron smiled. "I realized she was right, eventually. But by then, it was too late. You'd quit the Ministry, and you wouldn't answer any of my letters. I thought about calling you, on the phone, but Harry told me not to push my luck."

"He was right."

Ron sighed. "Bloody Hell, Mione. I'm trying to apologize here. Could you cut me a little slack?"

"Slack?" She raised her eyebrows. "You want me to cut you slack? After you tore my heart out and fed it to me? -I loved you, Ronald. I planned on spending the rest of my life with you. I thought you were _the one_ , and all I did was ask you for _one_ sexual adventure and…" her voice grew quiet. "I couldn't even explain to everyone why we'd broken up. Not my parents, or our friends… Because… it was all over 'sex', wasn't it?"

"No, Mione." Ron shook his head. "No, it wasn't." He stopped walking, guiding her over to a nearby shop window, to which he leaned against. "I was afraid that I wasn't enough for you."

"Sexually?"

"Sexually. Emotionally. All of it. -My entire life, I've never been good at much, you know? I'm decent at things, yeah, but to be great at something… Fred and George had their jokes. Ginny; her loyalty. Percy was intelligent, Charlie had his thing with dragons and Bill's always been the strongest. What did I have to offer you?" He stared down at the ground. "Every time you asked me for something, I felt like I was coming up short. I mean, Merlin's testicles! I couldn't even satisfy you in the bedroom." He blushed, but kept going. "I thought you deserved more, Hermione. You've always been better than me. School, friendship, romantically. When I realized you were going to give me a chance after the War, I seized it -without realizing that I wasn't good for you."

"Don't say that." She put a hand on his arm. He glanced up. "Do you know who you're talking to, Ronald Weasley? I'm not perfect. I never have been."

He smiled, pensive. "You've always been to me."

His words threw her for a loop, and she blushed the color of a strawberry. "I'm _not_ perfect. I'm nitpicky. I'm a perfectionist, but not in the endearing sense. I stress, I forget to eat, my work always comes first before my own happiness… I have flaws. We all do."

His hand came up and cupped her cheek -her face froze in shock. "Mione, those aren't flaws. They're what make you _you_. It's why I fell in love with you to begin with." He blinked, cleared his throat, and pushed himself off of the window, hand still on her face. "What I mean to say is… I've changed. I've grown up, and I want to make it up to you." His eyes closed, and his face leaned forward. Hermione, for a split moment, made no choice to move –and then her head snapped back into place, and Draco's steely grey eyes flooded the forefront of her mind.

"I'm seeing someone!" she all-but-yelled quickly, watching Ron stop mid-attempt-kiss, his eyes prying open and a look of disbelieve crossing his face.

"You are?" His eyebrows turned up quizzically. "Who?"

"Never you mind who, Ronald." She politely moved his hand from her face, though their noses were still inches from each other.

"Nah, Mione. You can't leave it like that." He looked half-hurt, as if he suspected her words were false. "Neville told me you'd shut him and Malfoy out the door."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did he?" Neville was full of assumptions, wasn't he?

"Well, it's true, isn't it? I mean… you're not seeing either one of them, are you?"

"Why do you assume it has to be one of them?"

"Are you seeing someone new?"

She panicked. "ER…. Yes. His name is Phillip. He's… Armenian. And he loves water polo."

Ron snorted a laugh, his face lightening. "You're a terrible liar, you know. Come on, Hermione. Spill the beans. It isn't Malfoy, is it?" And just like that, his face darkened once again. "I know I acted like a git on Valentine's Day, but seeing you out with him… how could you do that, Hermione?"

Insult stabbed her chest. "Do what, Ron? Go on a date with Draco?"

" _Draco_?" He stepped back, clearly befuddled, as well as irritated. "You call him Draco now, do you?"

"Well, yes. We're all adults, now. And given as I work with him on a regular basis, being on a first name basis seems only fitting." She placed her hands on her hips. "And you're right. You were a git on Valentine's Day." She poked him in the chest with her pointer finger. "And another thing! Cho Chang? What was that about?"

Ron fumbled over his words quickly. "I ran into her in a Quidditch store a week before! We weren't dating. We were just talking Quidditch."

"On Valentine's Day."

"Yeah…" He frowned. "So?"

"So, Draco and I were having _coffee_ on Valentine's Day."

"From the back of an alley? -Don't think I've forgotten where we ran into each other. You two were snogging behind Zonko's, weren't you?"

Anger began to swell within her, and she snapped. "No, Ron. On the roof of Zonko's."

"Pardon?"

"We were snogging _on the roof_ of Zonko's. Not behind it."

"What happened to coffee?!" Ron gasped comically.

"There was coffee involved!"

"That's disgusting, Hermione." He shook his head. "Bloody disgusting."

"Why? Because it's not you?"

"Because it's _Malfoy_." He shook his head. "Don't you remember all of the terrible things he did to us? To you? He called you horrible names. His entire family hated you all because you were conceived by muggles."

"You know, you didn't act much better at times."

"What d'you mean?"

"You don't remember? You made me cry more ugly tears in Hogwarts than Malfoy ever did. Our first year, you picked on me until I stowed myself away in the bathroom on Halloween. Remember? Well of course you do! There was a troll involved! -And then at the Yule Ball? How you told me I was 'fraternizing with the enemy' all because Viktor Krum asked me to be his _date_? -Or how about when Harry and I needed you most when we went to search for Horcruxes? And you left us!"

"Oi! I came back!"

"Yes! Yes you did!" She sighed, winding her voice back down. "And I forgave you _every time_. So why shouldn't I extend that same amount of courtesy towards Draco Malfoy? Why should you be forgiven and not him?"

"I… I guess I never thought of it like that."

"Of course, you didn't. Because you don't think things through, Ronald. You act on impulse, which is idiotic." Hermione chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she should give him full disclosure about her and Draco. She came with the intention not to spill the beans, but it looked so tempting… _No_ , she thought. _Best not right now. Stick to the plan._ "If I want to be friends with Draco, then you'll have to get over that if you want to remain mine."

"Yours?" His eyes lit up.

Hermione snuffed that hope out in an instant. "My _friend_. -I've told you, I'm seeing someone."

"Yeah, suuure you are." Ron rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and crossed his arms.

Hermione made a split second decision -one she could easily remedy, when the time was right, and one that (right now) would keep Ron off her back (and away from her lips). "I'm… I'm seeing Neville."

The look Ronald gave her was nothing short of flabbergasted. His mouth fell open, eyes widening to the point of humorousness, and his ears turned red. "I…" He snapped his mouth shut, rubbing his chin. "I mean… I… I guess that's not the _worst_ person you could date, really…"

"And he's your friend," she reminded him, "So kissing me would definitely put a damper in that."

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "It would." His face fell sullenly. "For a moment, Hermione, I thought you were going to tell me you were dating Malfoy." He laughed to himself. "I mean… that'd be crazy, right? I'm sure one date with him, and you realized you were way out of his league."

Hermione inwardly smiled; _sure, Ron_ , she thought, _whatever keeps you away from getting Draco fired_.

"He's not all that bad, once you get to know him. He's changed since Hogwarts."

"Oh? Has his ego grown bigger?"

' _That's not the only thing that's big…_ ' she giggled inside.

"Are we good, then?" she asked, ignoring his question. "I want us to remain friends. I really do, Ron. I appreciate the apology."

"Well, I meant it." He smiled. "And yeah, we're good." He pulled her in close and swallowed her in his arms, his hug sincere. "Look, Mum is having a cookout next month for Fleur's birthday. The whole family will be in town. Maybe you and Neville would like to join us?"

 _Uh oh. No. No, no, no! Abort mission! Abort mission!_ "Sure! That sounds great." _Well, shit._

"Cool." Ron kissed her cheek. "I can't believe Neville didn't tell me you two were a thing."

"It… came as a surprise." She attempted her best smile. ' _Well, it_ _will_ _be a surprise when I tell him. And Draco.'_ "And he's rather shy about it all, so let me tell him you know first."

She walked Ron to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes located at 93 Diagon Alley.

"You should come in and say hello to George," Ron offered. "I'm sure he'd love to see you."

As he opened the door, a flaming yellow disc soared above their heads and flew down the street, on some unknown mission. Three children came bustling out behind it, screaming and laughing.

"Look at it go!"

"So fast!"

"We weren't supposed to set it off in the shop!" A small, blonde child with curly hair set her hands on her hips, scolding her two friends.

Ron nudged down, gave Hermione a look, and laughed. "Aww, Hermione. I didn't know you'd had a child."

"Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes, pushed past him, and entered the shop, which was lively and packed full. Ron grabbed her hand and pressed through the crowd and up to the front desk, where George Weasley stood, showing off his latest invention; a boogey-causing jellybean, poetically named 'Snot Your Nose'.

"Just slip one of these little pretties into your mouth," he explained to a gaggle of children in front of him as he dropped a bean into his mouth and chewed. His nose immediately began to drip green, thick mucus, and the children clapped wildly in excitement. George wiped his nose with a hanky, saying, "S'impotant not to swallow, as it'll be hawd to s'top the boogeyss…" He struggled through his speech as his nose filled with more mucus. He spit the bean out, and his nose instantly cleared. "Parents will believe you sick, you get the day off, and then you can go back to your mischievous works! Two galleons a bean." He glanced up, immediately noticing Ron and Hermione. "Excuse me, gents. I have a pretty lady to greet." George hopped over the counter and enclosed Hermione in a tender hug. "Hello, Hermione. Feels like it's been ages."

She hugged George back. "It does, doesn't it? Far too long."

George pulled away, exchanging glances between his brother and her. "Ron finally grew a pair and apologized, then? When's the wedding?"

" _Wedding_?" They both squeaked.

"S'not like that, George," Ron frowned, "Hermione's seeing someone else. We're just friends."

"Are you though?" George smiled to Hermione. "Has he kidnapped you? Blink twice if you need help."

"I'm perfectly fine," she laughed, shoving him in the arm, "Thanks for looking out for me, though."

"Anytime." He flashed her a set of white teeth. "Angelina's around here, somewhere. You should go and tell her hi."

"I will."

George gave them both a wink. "Glad to see you two have worked things out. It was beginning to feel too much like a sausage fest at the Burrow -and I say that, knowing my sister hangs out with us all the time." He waved them off as he went back towards the desk. "Whatever you want, Hermione! It's yours! Free of charge! Call it penance for my brother's idiocy."

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed miserably. "What about me?"

"Ah, you get the sibling discount! Double the price!" He pointed his finger at Ron. "Love you, little brother!"

* * *

When Hermione arrived back at Hogwarts, she found a note tucked under her door.

' _Meet me in my office. Wear the clothes provided for you on your bed. Arrive precisely at 6PM. Don't be late._

 _-Professor Malfoy'_

"Clothes on the…?" She walked over to her bed, where a pretty green and silver box with a silver ribbon sat in the middle of her pillows. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "Now what have you gone and done?" Hermione loosened the ribbon and pried open the top. "You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

 **A/N: As the reviews come in, a lot of people are cross with Hermione. Remember -Draco is playing with fire as well. I'm sure it will all come out in the open...**  
 **~A.**


	22. A Disciplining

**A/N:**  
 **A lot of you are going to be wondering where I'm going with the next few chapters after this. I want you to know, you can trust me. I'm not going to take this somewhere** rediculous **.** Waymay **and I mapped out this plot (and the climactic moments)** a ways **back. So, if you feel like you're not sure whether to trust it or not, know that I won't destroy this story. I aim to keep you on your toes, and nothing is ever as it seems in my stories. XD**

 **Thank you** Waymay **, for taking the time to work through this with me, and also for proofing it. XD This is one of my favorites.**

 **Again, go check out _Empire_ and give it a review! Link can be found on my Author's page!**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Suddenly You Are" by Michael Grimm**

* * *

"You're late."

He didn't bother to look up from his desk as Hermione entered, stepping through the threshold between his classroom and his private office. Two things prickled her mind, sending her in a nervous state of humiliation.

One: she needed to tell Draco about her and Ron's discussion, and she was sure that her lie was going to make everything crumble apart. She hadn't wanted to lie to Ron; she'd desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn't stand the thought of Draco sacked on her behalf. Headmistress McGonagall was understanding, but with Ron's pull at the Ministry and parents already writing in about Draco's less-than-satisfactory background, she didn't want to risk it. Now she wished, very dearly, she could go back and confess everything, but admitting she lied to Ron, now, would only make things worse.

And then… there was number two: the outfit she wore under her Hogwarts-regulation robes. The material was much too tight (probably having undergone some serious shrinking charms), and her skin was left far more exposed than wanted. She would attempt to keep her robes on for as long as she could to avoid the humiliation of what she wore underneath.

Hermione watched as Draco scribbled away on some parchment, his plumed quill wiggling this way and that.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing the quill to the cushioned armchair on the other side of his desk, meant for visitors. His eyes, still, did not look up.

"Draco, I need to talk to you-"

"-Are you hard of hearing, Miss Granger? I said _sit_."

Sighing, Hermione crossed her arms and threw herself into the armchair, her eyebrows creasing together in a display of annoyance. "Seriously, can we talk for a moment?"

For the first time this evening, his eyes found hers, and he sat his quill inside an ink bottle near his hand. "Yes, I think that's a fine idea." He smirked. "Tardiness isn't tolerated in my classroom, Miss Granger. You'd do well to remember that."

"Oh,for goodness- I'm five minutes late. I got caught up preventing Peeves from dismantling a chandelier and-"

"-Talking out of term also is not permitted." He slammed a book on his desk closed and leaned forward. "Did you have a pleasant afternoon?"

"Oh? Am I allowed to speak now?" she quipped, uncrossing her arms to place them nervously in her lap. "Actually, there's something I need to discuss with you." Her eyes jerked down to her hands. "Ron and I-"

"Did he shove his tongue down your throat?"

"No."

"Then it can wait." He sat up straight again, placing his hands on the table to push himself up to stand. "Are you aware that you're failing my class, Miss Granger?" His fingers strummed along the table as he sidestepped around it, approaching her with slow precision.

"I wasn't aware I was taking your-" She cut herself off, making the connection between her hidden outfit and Draco's words. "Oh." She blushed. " _Oh_." Now she felt terrible! Here, she was planning on confessing about lying to Ron, and Draco had planned out an evening of taking his list to heart. She really should tell him. Best to get it over with and not draw the moment out, "Draco-"

"Do you refer to all of your professors by their given name, Miss Granger? Quite uncommon, I should say, and _highly_ inappropriate." He made it to his destination, standing in front of her while leaning back against his desk, his arms folded and a smirk across his face.

Hermione sighed, giving in. "I'm sorry, Professor Malfoy. How rude of me." She'd play this little game for a moment, make him happy, and then she would tell him. She wouldn't let it go too far. Just enough to make him less inclined to anger. "And… I'm sorry for my tardiness." Her eyes were in direct view of his groin, and she yearned to be rid of her secret so that she could enjoy this. It ate at her, and she clenched her fingers around her knees, eyes drifting down to his shoes. "If you'd let me explain-"

"I don't need excuses," he fussed, waving a hand in the air, "I, simply, expect better of you. You're my favorite student, after all."

Oh. He was _good_. Playing up the professor/student bit, knowing that Hermione loved being teacher's pet (she'd never thought of it in the sexual sense, of course, but now…) "Thank you, Professor Malfoy." She felt her resolve slip, giving way to her lustful urges. It was hard to think straight when Draco Malfoy stood in front of her and fed her lines about being his 'favorite' anything. - _No_ , she told herself. She'd been enough of a coward today. She should be brave. "I-told-Ron-I-was-dating-Neville!" she burst out, pinching her eyes shut. The room grew deathly quiet as she waited for his response.

It didn't come.

Moments passed in quietness until Hermione pried one eye open, and then the other, to look at him. His face was cold, nearly unreadable, and his jaw was tense. There was tension around his eyes like he might be holding back the urge to squint at her, and the muscles in his neck were tight. He spoke softly, but sternly. "You _what_?"

"I told Ron I'm dating Neville," she said again, nails digging into her knees -if it weren't for the material of her robes, she was sure she would have drawn blood.

"That's what I thought you said," he replied in that same, nearly monotone manner of speech. "The question I cannot wrap my head around is _why_."

"To save your job," she explained, eyebrows knitted together. "He was on a roll today, going on and on about his hatred for you."

"Interestingly enough, my sentiments towards him are _quite_ similar." He rubbed his palm over his mouth and down his chin, breaking his calm. "What were you _thinking_ , Hermione?"

"I was thinking about you! When Ron tried to kiss me today-"

"-I _thought_ you said he _didn't_ -"

"-You asked me if he _did_! I said he _tried_." She brushed a tear away as it fell down her cheek. "He laid all of his cards on the table, and he played the sympathy up well because he had me going there for a moment-"

" _Did_ he now?"

"Not like that!" She stood straight up, batting at more tears with her knuckles.

"Why are you crying?" he sneered, though it was half-hearted. It was obvious there sat a part of him that wanted to console her.

"I've gone through quite an emotional rollercoaster today, Draco. Forgive me if I'm not perfect every moment of every day."

"Well, of course, you're not perfect," he muttered, and she turned her eyes up to him. "Merlin knows you have flaws. But so do I. Just the thought of you being anywhere _near_ that toe-rag makes me want to…" He snapped his jaw shut and averted his gaze.

His response floored her. On the subject of perfection, Ron had told her he thought she was; Draco made it clear he knew she wasn't. And hearing that made her heart tug, in a good way. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, ever, she realized.

"Draco…" she reached out and placed a hand on his wrist, though his arms were still crossed. "I'm sorry. I didn't do it to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. To protect us."

"Is there an _us_ if we have to lie about it to save face with your turnip-faced friends?" He glowered at her. She fell silent. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Hermione, but when I date someone, I don't do it lightly." The silver flecks in his eyes darkened to charcoal. "When I began to pursue you, I had no idea I was going to-" he stumbled over his words, "-to feel… to feel so _much_ , you know?" He brushed her hand off of him. "I thought 'hey, lookie there. There's Granger. My, she has a nice rack.' -And then we talked on the staircase, and I thought, 'Merlin, she's more tolerable now than she ever was back in school.' And then we had that moment in your room…" He smirked, though it was icy. "And I began to wonder why I couldn't get you out of my mind. You were like my own personal wormwood, come to root in my brain and destroy my sense of control."

"I never meant to…" she whispered, finding it hard to breathe. His glare was suffocating.

"Well, of course, you never meant to. How were you supposed to know? All you had to do was walk into the room, and my libido soared out the roof. Not to mention my desire to attain your attention. And when I asked you for coffee, do you have any idea what was going through my mind?"

She blinked. "In all honesty, no."

"I _wanted_ you to turn me down so that I could find an excuse to leave you alone –and lo and behold, you _did_. And I couldn't _stand_ it. I practically begged you with seduction just to get a chance with you, because, for some reason, I desperately wanted that coffee." He rubbed his face with his hands, glancing at her. "I like you, Hermione. I really do. But I don't do well with sharing what's mine, even if it is figurative." He reached out, curled his fingers around her wrist, and tugged her to him. "And _you_ are mine. Not Longbottom's. And most certainly not Weasley's." He stroked his fingers down the side of her cheek, wiping away some of her tears. "If I lose my job for dating you, then I've lost it for the right reasons."

She stared up at him, bewildered and humbled. "But… but you love it here. You love the students. You love-"

He pressed a finger to her lips, rendering her silent. "Unlike you, my career doesn't play first string to my heart. I'd gladly take the hit if it meant that I could be open and honest about you."

Hermione couldn't help it -she began to cry more. "You say that now, but we both know your family would never approve-"

"-My _family_ has no say in anything I do anymore. Nor do my friends. Only I call the shots, and I say you're worth standing in the line of fire for." He genuinely smiled.

"You're… being rather calm about all of this," she noted.

"Yes, well, it seems while you're giving out confessions, I have one of my own as well. -Longbottom _might_ be under the impression that I'm an escort for hire, and you're my client."

It didn't register to Hermione at first. "Why would he think that you're-" and then it hit her like a brick house falling from a tornado. All that was left was for some little girl to steal her ruby red slippers. "NO." She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle it. "No!" She shook her head.

"Oh, _yes_ , my sweet Mistress." He gave her a flirtatious wink.

"He overheard us…"

"He did."

"Oh God." She hid her face in her hands. "Oh, strike me down this instant." Then it occurred to her, "-Wait. If he thinks what he saw was real… and you know about it… haven't you tried to _correct_ him?" She swatted his arm, hard.

"Ow!" He frowned at her. "Easy on the merchandise."

"How long have you known he's been under this misunderstanding?"

"A few weeks now."

"A few _weeks_?" She tallied it up in her head. "But -you told me that he knew about us."

"Yeah… about that." He smirked. "He might have thought I was referencing to his assumption, and not our actual relationship?"

She swatted him on the arm with both of her hands, even harsher than before.

"OW!" he snapped. "Seriously, that hurts!"

"You." _Swat._ "Are." _Swat._ "An." _Swat._ "Absolute." _Swat._ "CUR!" _Double swat._

"Ouch!" He caught her hands by the wrists and held them out to the side. "It was all in good fun, Hermione!"

"Good fun? Is that what you call it? Neville thinks I _paid you for sex_!"

"And Weasley thinks you're dating _Longbottom_!" He shouted back. "I think that pretty much makes us even!"

"It most certainly does not!"

"How does it not?"

"I lied to protect you! You lied to get your jollies off on Neville! -Oh, what he must think of me…" She tried to jerk her hands out of his grasp, but he couldn't be budged. "You have to correct this. No- scratch that. I have to rectify this. If I send _you_ to do it, Neville will come back thinking I've paid off the entire Bulgarian Quidditch team as well!"

"Hey," he said, "I would never say something so foul. I want him to imagine _me_ shagging you, not anyone else." He looked down to his hands fastened around her wrists, and his smirk widened. "Speaking of which, I think a lesson is in order, here."

"Lesson?" She noticed the widening of his pupils. "Don't tell me this is actually turning you on?"

"And if it is? I can't help it, Hermione. The idea of teaching you a lesson has my skin tingling." His eyes danced over her face and neck. "Besides, we both know the best kind of sex is make-up sex."

"It is?"

His smirk faltered. "Hmm." Draco tilted his head. "That's rare. Usually, you're the one schooling _me_ in broadening my sexual horizons. I suppose it's fitting I be the one to show _you_ a thing or two." He licked his lips, lost in his thoughts for a moment. "So, just to be clear, you're telling me, you and Weasley never once had angry sex that led into passionate lovemaking?"

Lovemaking? Hermione was sure she hadn't experienced much of that at all. Not that Ron hadn't loved her. And not that she hadn't loved him. But when they got angry, they would storm off to bed, or one would sleep on the sofa. And when the fight was done, it usually fizzled over a couple of days until, eventually, both just ignored the problem or moved on.

"Not really, no."

"Not really? Or no?"

"No."

Draco appeared to be the cat that just got the cream, and he released her wrists. "Just to be clear, I'm still _very_ unhappy with you. I expect this business with Weasley to be cleared up, or I promise you, you won't like me when I'm angry."

Hermione couldn't help it. She sniggered into the back of her hand.

"What's so funny?" he snapped.

" 'You won't like me when I'm angry,'" she imitated. "Hulk smash."

"What, in the name of Merlin, is a 'Hulk'?" He dismissed it immediately. "Take a seat, Miss Granger. _Now_." Draco fell right back in step with his Professor Malfoy persona, pointing to the chair. Hermione sighed, not wanting to push her luck, did as she was told. He smiled, satisfied, and leaned back against the wood of his desk. "As I was saying, you've been quite insubordinate these last few days. Lying. Manipulating. Teasing. -Quite out of character for an academic witch, such as yourself."

Hermione's heart quickened, and guilt banged against her chest. Draco forgave her so quickly… well, why shouldn't he? _He_ lied to Neville just as much as she lied to Ron. Maybe she could forget about it all for just a little while…

"I'm sorry, _Professor_." She chewed on the word seductively. "Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain."

Draco quirked both eyebrows, impressed by her double entendre. "It's rather stuffy in here. Perhaps you should remove your robes."

Not wanting to drop the game, and filled with a new sense of sexual desire, she nibbled on her lower lip while unbuttoning the top clasp of her robe. And then the next. And the next, until she sluffed it off of her shoulders, revealing the outfit beneath.

The Gryffindor uniform had been transformed quite a bit before Hermione got ahold of it -the gray, pleated skirt drew a line across her upper thighs, and the standard issue sweater altered with a deep U-shape in the neckline. Her breasts practically spilled out, revealing the red and gold bra provided for her. The white button up, one might ask? It hadn't been afforded to her. But a red and gold striped tie had, spilling down her revealing neckline to match her undergarment. Black, knee-high socks teased down her lower legs, complimenting a pair of polished Mary-Janes.

Draco looked like a child on Christmas morning, and he swallowed audibly. He pointed to the door, which led out to his classroom. "Everyone will be eating in the Great Hall. But not you, Miss Granger. You have detention. With me. Right now."

So this was why she wasn't to be late -he'd fit in a time where no one would bother them. Smart.

She hopped out of her chair at once, folded her arms behind her back, and smiled sweetly. "Yes, Professor." She led the way out of the office and watched as the door to the classroom swung shut at the other end. Turning her head, she caught Draco mid-motion as he cast a locking, then silencing charm on the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me alone, _Professor_."

There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, though his face remained terse. "You'll be cleaning out cauldrons tonight, Miss Granger, for your insubordination." He flicked his wand again and conjured three medium sized cauldrons onto the nearest worktable. From a shelf nearby, he plucked some cleaning solution and a toothbrush, offering it out to her.

"You're… you're not serious," she sputtered out, nearly furious. Did he truly mean for her to serve detention? Had she misunderstood the idea of foreplay all these years? Because it certainly wasn't cleaning out crusty cauldrons, that was for sure.

"I'm as serious as they _come_."

"Draco-"

He shoved the solution and brush in her hands, leaning forward. "Professor Malfoy."

"Professor," she corrected, though her voice no longer carried that cadence of appreciation; only contempt. She thought up something from the background of her memories -a phrase she'd heard him use on multiple occasions when he didn't gotten his way back in school. "My father will hear about this."

A grin spread across his lips, and he nearly laughed before his eyes darkened, and he said in a thick, seductive timbre, "See to it that he does. _After_ detention." He spun her around by the shoulders and marched her to the cauldrons. "I've always wanted to watch you do this," he chuckled, breaking character momentarily.

"What? The idea of me cleaning turn you on?"

"No." He shook his head, stepping forward to line himself parallel to her, inches from her back. His fingers grazed down her arms as his nose brushed against her cheek. "This is payback."

"Payback?"

"For forcing me to hide what we have." Large hands sculpted down her sides, resting firmly on her hips. "And for all those years you teased me in school."

"You were the one to tease _me_ , remember?" she chided.

"I meant, with this." He jerked her hips back and into his pelvis at the same time that his lips found her earlobe. "Walking around, so prim. So proper. But yet so unaware of how," his teeth nibbled her ear, "enticing you looked walking to class, or eating a pastry, or watching us all play Quidditch."

Her head lulled to the side, and she released a reverent sigh. "You don't mean that…"

"I do."

She turned her head, meeting his brazen stare. "That would mean you've been attracted to me for years."

"It would."

She laughed, not mockingly, but disbelieving. "So that's why you want me to clean cauldrons? Because you're cross that your body found mine sexually attractive as teenagers?"

"No." He guided his hand around to her stomach, up her shirt, between her breasts, and finally resting it gently around her neck, making her groan in anticipation. "I'm afflicted because you never felt the same. Because I had to watch you saunter to class- and while you're an intelligent woman, it never dawned on you when you came into your body, or how your walk affected the boys in school." The hand on her hip gripped tighter, though the one around her neck remained lax. "I never understood, until you came back, just what kind of spell you cast on me all those years ago."

His words caressed her mind like honey dripping down onto a fresh dinner roll- sweet, and warm, and eliciting hunger deep within her core.

"I never knew you felt that way…"

"Neither did I until I realized…" his voice trailed off. They stood there, content for a moment, before Hermione's curiosity got the best of her.

"Realized… what? What did you realize?"

He kissed the edge of her jaw. "It's not important. Not right now." He, then, released her. "Get to scrubbing, Miss Granger." Draco backed away from her and walked around to the other side of the desk, raising both of his eyebrows forebodingly. "Professor Snape's disposition would make a tame example to mine should you disappoint me."

* * *

This wasn't fun anymore. Hermione spent the last fifteen minutes cleaning, in silence, while Draco looked on from the comfortable chair behind his classroom desk, which was only a smidgen smaller than the one located in his office. His feet propped up on the table; Draco smirked with his hands behind his head as he watched his witch scrub at the third cauldron with irritated vigor. She looked at him every few minutes, waiting for him to order her to do something else, or maybe break out into a laugh and call the whole thing off, but he only watched as she rolled up her sleeves, her hands now covered in grime and watered down soot.

Finally, she cracked.

"Professor," she snapped, slamming the toothbrush down on the table next to the cauldron. "What the _Hell_ am I doing?"

"Detention."

Hermione walked over to the sinks at the back of the class, washed her hands, and dried them on a nearby towel. "I gathered that." The room filled with her exasperation. "When I came here, I thought… well, I thought things would be a bit different."

"Did you?" He gave an amused laugh. "How silly of you, Miss Granger." He shifted his feet so that one ankle overlapped the other, and he gave an exaggerated yawn. "What did you think would happen?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly, "Maybe you'd make me write lines, and then you'd bend me over your desk and..." She noticed the evil twinkle in his eye and slammed her hand down on the edge of the sink. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Planned what?" His eyes danced with enjoyment at her outburst.

"You know damn well ' _what_.' You made me scrub those cauldrons knowing I'd cave eventually and do this right here." She pointed to the floor as if to make her argument more compelling. "You wanted me to practically beg for you to… to…" her voice slipped from her when his demeanor changed, and he slipped his feet down off of the desk and to the floor, hands pushing him up from his chair to stand.

"To _what_ , Miss Granger?" He stalked around his desk and approached her, hands behind his back. "To ravish you? Is that what you were going to say?"

She licked her dry lips. "Something like that."

Draco stopped in front of her, untucking a hand to stroke the back of his knuckles gently down her cheek. "Sounds to me that someone has a crush on her Potion's professor." He cracked a smirk. "Is that what I'm hearing?"

Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and she leaned closer on instinct. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized…"

"Hmm?" His voice was enquiring and pleased. "Fantasized? That's highly inappropriate for a student." He tilted her chin upwards, brushing his thumb pad teasingly over her bottom lip. "Tell me about these fantasies."

She pried her eyes open, expecting to see a smirk but instead meeting a severe, poignant expression. Even if his voice held lust, his eyes seemed… there wasn't a word for it. Pensive wasn't enough. Sad was too strong. Troubled, maybe? As if he wanted desperately to say something but held himself back, instead.

"I've imagined having private lessons with you," she whispered, thinking back to her dream.

"And what happens in these 'private' lessons?"

"You run your hand up my skirt."

"Hmmm…" His eyes trickled down to her uniform, and his hand dusted the edge of her skirting. "Like this skirt here?" Fingers poised, he lifted the skirt ever so slightly, playing with the material between his fingertips.

"Yes," she said in a shaky voice, "Just like that."

"Now that I'm looking at this uniform, it doesn't seem up to school code." He eyed over her exposed cleavage and thighs. "What I mean to say is that someone could just-" His free hand jerked the side of her low-cut collar aside, revealing her covered breast. Hermione inhaled sharply and jumped. "Gryffindor through and through." His words were aimed at her scarlet and gold bra. Desperately wanting to point out that he had picked it out, but not wanting to break the sexual tension that was building, she shrugged in response and decided to go full Gryffindor on him.

"I'm sorry, Professor." Her hands ghosted over his, encouraging him. "If the uniform isn't up to code… perhaps it should be removed?"

It was exactly the right amount of teasing to ring Draco's bell -he sighed anxiously, fisting the skirt and tugging her forward. "My thoughts exactly." He spun her around and pressed her stomach into the edge of the counter, directly in front of the sink. He pulled down the zipper at the back of her skirt and yanked the material down over the apex of her hips, giving an anxious breath when he spotted- "You're not wearing underwear, Miss Granger." His eyes lingered on the peeking tops of her luscious ass cheeks.

"I'm not?" She smirked, turning her head to steal a glance over her shoulder. "Oh. Silly me."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said, biting his lower lip as his eyes snapped up to hers. "For imaginative foreplay." He cast her a wink before yanking her skirt all the way down the line of her legs until it pooled at her ankles. Hermione shuffled out of them, quickly.

"You do know that you potentially gave Gryffindor ten _real_ points, don't you?" she pointed out, fighting the urge to shudder as a hand ran up her spine, stopped at her shoulder blades, and ushered her forward to bend over the sink. Draco shrugged in response, apparently committed to the task at hand. His hand rubbed adoringly at the round cheek it possessed, and his breathing was shallow. "And you do realize that our reasons for giving points goes on the permanent roster in the Headmistress's office?"

"Shit." Draco laughed nervously. "Do you think she actually reads it?"

"Only if there's a dispute at the end of the year over House Points. -Otherwise, no."

He shrugged again. "Worth it." He smacked her ass playfully. "Tell me again, Miss Granger, about these fantasies of yours? Do any of them involve me sticking my cock inside you?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, bringing her face back around to stare down at the sink. Her breasts looked like two globes tucked inside that bra of hers. "My boyfriend always wakes me up before I get to the best part."

"Sounds like a real cock-block."

 _Smack!_ His hand came down again, stinging her backside.

"Mmmhmm… he is." She licked at her upper lip, tasting the perspiration from sweat that had broken out across her skin. Part of her wanted to demand that he skip all the damned foreplay and get right down to it. But the other part of her enjoyed the banter. "He just doesn't do it for me the way you do, _Professor_."

The hand between her shoulder blades slipped up into the nape of her hairline and tugged a fistful of hair. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I've seen you walk the halls with him. Handsome man, he is, and he practically follows you around like a puppy. Don't you believe in loyalty, Miss Granger?"

She fought the urge to laugh, replying, "But Professor," she wiggled her hips seductively, "When I close my eyes, all I see is you."

She was sure she heard him pinch his breath to keep from moaning, and he pressed his crotch against her. "What a bad girl, you are."

"Yes. So bad."

"Didn't your parents ever discipline you?" Another swat to her bum had her gasping as heat spread across her skin.

"Never needed… much disciplining… Only when I'm around you."

"Perhaps I should oblige, then? It seems only fitting I gift you with a lesson in what a real man feels like nested between those thighs." He slipped his fingers down between her legs and palmed her. The heat of his skin made her groan wantonly. "Would you enjoy that, Miss Granger? Being disciplined by your professor in every sense of the word?"

"Yes!" she desperately gasped. "Mmhmm… please, Draco… Professor… give it to me."

"There you go again," he patted her pussy playfully, "Using my given name as if I'll allow it." Fingers danced over her clit, and Hermione gripped the edge of the counter harder, nails digging into the wood. "I think you need to be taught to respect authority. -Stay still." He released her at once, causing her to inhale breath after unstable breath. She peeked her head around to watch him stalk back over to his desk, where three, white paraffin candles burned, giving off most of the lighting, as it was beginning to darken outside. He raised an eyebrow to her, gesturing to the candles. "Did you honestly mean it when you said you wanted to try everything on my list?"

She looked to the candles, flames flitting back and forth, the connotations of what he asked coming to life. Very slowly, she nodded. "Yes, Professor. Everything."

He smirked, obviously relieved, and picked one up out of its stemmed candleholder. "I've been doing some research, you know. Into just how this might go." He approached her cautiously, though confident in his walk.

"Have you?" she whispered, anticipation rising. "That's… thorough…"

"Do you trust me?" This was the real Draco asking now, and not the Professor persona. Hermione nodded meekly, though acutely aware of her answer.

"Of course."

"Turn around, then."

She did, closing her eyes in the process to add to the suspense. "I've been such a bad student, Professor Malfoy. I arrived tardy and without a proper uniform. I deserve detention. I deserve so much more."

"You do," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper as a hand glided down her hip and rested there. "And, as your Professor, I should make sure you're properly reminded of student/professor boundaries. -Such as calling me _Draco_ …"

The first drop of wax along her ass cheek took her by surprise. The sharpness of the heat mixed with the subtle weight of the wax caused her to groan audibly, head thrown back between a combination of pain and pleasure. Never once had she allowed herself the image of fantasizing this in her mind, simply because she never thought she would find a partner daring enough to try it. When she'd added it to the list, she almost let her mind wander, but she had been sure he would cross it off as a 'never' and be done with it. When he checked 'Wish List,' she remembered her heart giving an astounding leap of hope. And now here they were, tucked away in his classroom, not only performing an apparent roleplay fantasy of his but also, secretly, giving Hermione something she'd wondered about for years. The sound of his voice ripped her from her inner thoughts.

"Well?" His voice sounded shy and testing. "Do you-"

"I love it," she answered immediately, cutting him off. "Please, Professor. More." She wagged her bum at him, offering herself up. "Please. Discipline me." She peered over her shoulder subtly to catch the smirk that played across his lips and watched as he raised the candle a safe distance away from her skin before dripping more droplets of wax onto her lower back and ass. "Yesss…" Hermione turned her face forward again and ran a hand over her covered breast, giving it a tender squeeze. "More."

Draco, having found his confidence once more, pushed her shirt up and trailed the wax carefully down her spine, taking note of her sighs, moans, and whines. When she sounded pleased, he'd stop the process, waiting for her to hiss or groan in protest before starting it up all over again. Each drop of wax atop Hermione's skin felt, to her, like a reminder of her trust in him. Wax play, if not done correctly, could result in burns or scarring. But Draco must have done his homework because the only burning done to her was the heat building between her thighs as they glistened with arousal. Already soaked, she bit down on her tongue to keep from demanding that he pound into her this very moment.

"Mmm… God, Professor Malfoy…" she panted.

"You're taking your scolding so well. Aiming to be teacher's pet by the end of this?"

"No, sir," Hermione replied, moaning, "I just want you to fuck me over your desk so hard that my legs shake."

Draco chuckled, then blew the candle out. "Very well. If that's what it takes. -Go, then. Bend over and take your punishment like a good girl."

She wasted no time in standing upright and crossing the classroom to his desk, pushing the chair back. Eyes on his, she smirked, challengingly, at him before tossing the paperwork on top of it over her shoulder. "Oops."

He chuckled. "Someone didn't learn her lesson." Draco stepped closer.

"No, apparently I didn't." She grinned at him, nudging her hand towards a stoppered ink bottle at the edge. He gave her a threatening expression, but, much like a determined cat, she batted it off and heard it _clunk_ to the floor. "Oh dear. I'm sorry, Professor. It just fell all on its own."

"I'm sure it did," he replied, sarcasm etched in his tone. "And the paperwork? The wind?"

"Precisely."

"You haven't bent over that desk, yet, Hermione."

She smiled at her given name. "Professor Malfoy! I thought we weren't allowed to be so intimate."

"Yes, well, seeing as how I'm about to fuck you over the desk that I grade papers on, I say to Hell with it." He grinned back.

Hermione, in a show of obedience, lowered herself forward on the desk, purposefully, showing off the curves of her breasts teasingly hidden beneath the school uniform, her tie dipped between them. She placed one hand, and then the other, over the edging, and spread her legs for balance. "I'm waiting, Professor."

He growled, primal, unbuckling the clasp of his robes as he stormed up behind her. They fell to his feet at the same time that he went for the buckle of his pants. There was a shuffle of fabric, and another desperate snarl before his hand grasped her hip, and he shoved himself into her. Hermione's body tightened at the sheer force, causing her walls to clench around his throbbing cock and earning a gravelly moan deep from his throat.

"Oh!" She grasped the desk for support. "Fuck!"

"Language, Miss Granger." He drove into her, hard and abandoned of control. One hand wrapped around her throat with just enough pressure to claim possession, but not enough to choke her. "Mine," he said as if to reiterate the gesture, pounding away at her as her eyes shut tight, lost in the movements and sensations. His other hand dug deep into her hip, nails declaring what was his. "That mouth, that tongue, this tight, wet pussy -it's all mine, isn't it, Hermione?"

"Mmmgod… Yes. Yes, it is, Draco," she mumbled, desperation filling her voice as her body quivered, "All of it. I'm yours."

"And you're never," he tightened his fingers slightly, "going to betray my trust again, are you?"

"Fuck! No..." She could tell he was serious, and the atmosphere changed. Her magic tingled at her fingertips, electrifying the impulse to assure him. "No, Draco. Never again. I…" Overwhelmed by the sudden weight of her guilt, she felt tears press up underneath her eyes, but she fought them as her hormones teetered. Teeth sank into her neck, and the movements of his hips slowed, until he rested within her, occasionally rolling his hips to keep the build of her approaching orgasm. His fingers around her neck loosened, and then they were on her shoulder, her breast, her stomach, grinding himself into her with purpose. Hermione's breath caught, and a content sigh escaped her lips. "Mmm… Draco… I… I love it…I love… oh…" _I love you_ …

Her eyes snapped open at her inner monologue, and a blasted tear escaped her eye to slide down her cheek. Draco didn't see it, thank Circe, and she felt relief when it fell into the messy curls of her hair which pressed against her face.

Now rolling his cock into her at a tender pace, Draco leaned forward and kissed between her shoulder blades. "I love hearing you moan, Hermione. I love that beautiful little sound you make when you try to hold yourself back from screaming. I love your lips," Kiss, "your eyes, your skin," another kiss, this time in the crook of her neck, "your nose." His breath tickled her cheek. "I love everything about you."

"Even when I piss you off?" she teased.

He pressed into her purposefully, making her gasp. "Especially then. Because, then, I get to do this," he gave a quick, forceful thrust, "right here."

"Fuck…"

"You like it when I go slow like this, love? You like it when I take you so slow? So tenderly?"

"Draco… you're going to make me…"

He pulled her upright to stand, still buried within her, one hand on her stomach while the other traveled down to play with her clit. "Come for me, Hermione. I love hearing you come. Do it for me, will you?" A few affectionate thrusts and some clitoral stimulation later, Hermione came undone, losing all inhibitions and crying out as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. She choked back a scream as her hands fell back behind her and strummed through his hair.

"Draco…" she whispered, one last tear falling down her cheek. _I love you_ , she thought, as if she could push it into his mind. _I love you so much it hurts_. But instead, she said aloud, "I want you to come."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, moving inside her once more. "You want me to come, Hermione?"

"I do."

"Where do you want me to come?"

It hadn't occurred to her that they'd been going at it like rabbits without protection until now. She'd need to remember to purchase a muggle morning after pill. She'd just been so caught up in the moment.

"Wherever you want," she whispered. If she was going to be purchasing after-sex protection, might as well leave the options open. After all, she wasn't ovulating, so the chances were super slim, anyway…

His answer shocked and aroused her at the same time. "How about on that ass? Does that sound fun to you?"

Merlin, fucking-Jesus himself, yes. She did love this man. "Mmm… do it." Without warning, Draco shoved her forcefully into the desk, a hand on the back of her neck as he bent her over and began to fuck away at her warm, wet center. She could hear it in his breathing, which became heavy and sparse, that he was close, and she egged him on, moaning, "God, Draco, yes, fuck me just like that. Come on me. I want to feel your warm cum on my-"

He jerked out of her, suddenly, and stroked himself three times before he came atop her ass. She felt the warmth drip down her cheeks as he rode out his orgasm, caught somewhere between panting and groaning in pleasure. When he had finished, and Hermione's ass was covered in his cum, he took a step back to admire his work before pulling her up off the desk, spinning her around, and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Hermione's knees trembled, partially from the sex, and partially because his mouth against hers was so full of emotion, like he was pouring his soul into her as their tongues collided. His hands found the sides of her face, and he slowed the kiss down into a mild jog before pulling away to whisper, " _That_ is what make-up sex feels like."

Hermione's eyes fell closed as she laughed, turning her head into his palm. "Is it now?"

"What do you think?"

"I think…" She opened her eyes back up to gaze at his sultry stare. "I want to fight with you more often."

He smirked. "I'll remember that." His thumb pads brushed at the bottom of her eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Hermione's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. "No." She shook her head. "No, not at all."

He looked at her skeptically but didn't push it (thankfully). Instead, he kissed her nose. "Did you like that?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled. "Do you really have to ask?"

He shrugged. "More of a formality. I'm confident you enjoyed your punishment."

"I really did." They both laughed, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his button-down shirt. Inhaling his cologne and listening to his heartbeat against his chest, Hermione felt safe. Tucked away in his arms, she'd never felt so at home. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he scoffed. "What have you to be sorry for?"

"For lying. For hiding us."

"Oh." He laughed. "That." He buried his face in her curls and kissed the side of her head. "We'll just need to set a few things straight. We'll talk to Longbottom first thing in the morning."

"Will we?"

"Unless you'd like him to still stay under the impression that I'm an escort? I don't mind dicking around with him a bit more…"

She poked him in the side. "No. First thing tomorrow. -But there's one other thing I forgot to mention.- Ron invited Neville and me to a family event next month while under the impression that…"

"That you two were a thing."

"Yeah."

He gave an agitated sigh. "You said yes, didn't you?"

"Yes?"

He rubbed his hand down his face, almost comical. "Hermione Granger, what am I going to do with you?"

"Well," she replied, lifting her face up so that she could kiss under his jaw, "You could always punish me again."

He chuckled, closing his eyes. "I just might."


	23. A Bath

**A special thank you to WayMay for being awesome and handling all of the cheese associated with this chapter. I'm going to focus on Sex Ed until its completion, occasionally updating HTTYA2 and Bond until this work is done (shouldn't bee too many more chapters. Probably looking at about 5-6 more? I think? I'm not good at giving an exact number. Just know, the Weasley event will be an event to remember!) Then HTTYA2 will be top priority, along with Empire. Bond has 2 more chapters, so I want to make them good. -Right now, I'm working on an original piece with waymay that we hope to get published.**

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"The Judge" by Twenty One Pilots**

* * *

Neville stared from one to the other, his face even and controlled.

"Neville?"

He began to tap his foot, hands folded in his lap.

"Neville, say something."

Surely, he heard wrong. Because, there was no way what he heard was correct.

"Do you think I should fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

Finally, he broke his silence. "You two are together?"

Hermione's face softened across the table from him, and she gave Malfoy's hand a firm squeeze. "Yes-"

"Obviously," Malfoy scoffed, stepping over her words with his own. "So, what say you, Longbottom? Are you going to go parading this information up and down the hallways, or what?"

Neville broke his concentration on their hands intertwining together to send the Potion's professor a seriously inquisitive expression. "Why would I do that?" It never dawned on him to throw around someone else's relationship as dirty laundry for the world to see.

"This is all my fault," said Hermione as a blush came across her cheeks. "I wanted to keep Draco and me a secret because of Ron's temper, but in doing so, I created a misunderstanding so farfetched it hardly seems real."

"Seemed real enough to me," Neville said quietly, rubbing the back of his head. "So Malfoy's not a prostitute?"

"Heaven's no!"

Malfoy smirked. "Disappointed?"

Hermione ribbed him in the side.

"But I saw you two. That night. At Hermione's door."

Her cheeks darkened even more. "That… well… erm… that was roleplay, Neville."

" _Roleplay_?" Neville gasped, eyes widening.

"Yes. Acting out sexual fantasies-"

"-I know what it means, Hermione." He threw his hand up, making a grimacing face. "I just don't understand why you'd want to roleplay with ferret-boy over here." He gestured to Malfoy.

"Call me ferret-boy again, Longbottom. See what happens." His eyes narrowed.

"-What Draco means to say is that we're all adults. Once he told me what sort of mess he'd made with you, I told him we were to immediately rectify this situation." She nodded once, as if to applaud herself for doing just that. "So you see, we're in a relationship. A healthy, consenting relationship."

Neville shot his eyes over to her. "With _him_?"

"Well, of course with him! Who else would I mean?"

Neville wasn't sure she wanted him to answer that question. Weeks passed with him believing Malfoy to be some sexually-driven harlot, only to find out he wasn't a call-boy, but a _boyfriend_ to one of his most cherished friends. The world felt out of place, and Neville squared them both up, shoulders set. "So why tell me now?"

"Because you have every right to know," Hermione told him.

"What she means," said Malfoy, "Is that we need your help." He appeared agitated, as if what they were about to ask for was revolting. "As you know, Weasley isn't very keen on my existence, and I'm not very keen on his."

"I was aware of that, yeah. I'm not too keen on you either."

"Oh good, so we're all in agreement." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Hermione's afraid Weasley will try to get me sacked if we come clean to him. If you think what I made you believe was terrible, it's nothing in comparison to what she did."

Neville looked curiously over to Hermione, doubting whatever she did could top Malfoy's prostitution scandal. "What'd you do?"

"I… I went to lunch with Ron to clear the air. Except it didn't clear. It got mucky, and awful, and I lied to him. -I told him that you and I were dating."

"Why would you do _that_?" Neville gasped.

"Because, Neville, I panicked! Ron likes you. He hates Draco. At first, I told him I was dating someone to keep him from trying to lock lips with me, but then he pestered me, wanting to know who. It was a split-second decision. And a bad one, I might add. Because… he invited us to dinner next month for Fleur's birthday."

"Us." Neville repeated. "As in…" He gestured between Hermione and himself. She nodded. Neville whistled. "Talk about a bed of lies, Hermione. You expect us to, what? Stroll into Molly and Arthur's home and make kissy faces at each other to save Malfoy's career?" He snorted a laugh. "No offence, but I don't give a rat's bum about his position here at Hogwarts. Why would McGonagall care if you two dated, anyways?"

"She wouldn't," Hermione answered, "But she would care if enough parents were concerned with Draco's Death Eater history. You and I both know he isn't like that, but they don't. And there's already been loads of letters sent in when Ron outed him in Hogsmeade."

"There have?" He looked over to Malfoy, who had taken a great interest in his cuticles all of a sudden. "That's not right." Even he had to attest, though he hated Malfoy with a passion, he was no Dark Wizard. "You're a git, but that's about it. What do they think will happen? That you'll hex the muggleborn students?"

Malfoy shrugged indignantly. "I told Hermione this wasn't necessary. I took this job knowing that not everyone found my past favorable. But she insists that I'm not to get sacked before the end of term. Believe me, we've had a few choice words over the matter, but you know Granger," his eyes flitted over to the witch as a smirk plagued his face, "She always wants to win the argument at whatever cost."

"You're not one to give up, either," Neville pointed out. "So what did she threaten you with?"

Malfoy grinned, flashing his eyes up to the Herbology professor. "You really want to know?"

Neville's stomach plummeted. "On second thought, I'd rather not."

"We need your help," Hermione reached across the table and patted Neville's hand, which had found its root atop of a book about Northern American wild grasses. "Please. It will only be the once. And after the school term ends, we'll settle everything out. Ron will have time to cool off, and Draco's job stays intact."

"What if I don't _want_ my job intact, Hermione?" Malfoy snapped suddenly, startling the two Gryffindors. "This is ridiculous. We should just tell Weasley and get it over with."

"And what kind of example would that set to Liam and Lidia? If you get fired, Liam will think that he can't hold down a steady job if he dates Lidia."

"And what sort of example do we set if we lie?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "We're the ones that told them to come clean about their relationship, but we're to hide ours? Hypocritical, at best."

"We're coming clean to everyone but Ron," she pointed out.

"And his entire sodding family. Which, in turn, means that they mean something to you."

"Why do you care?" Neville asked, bringing the attention back to himself. "Does your family know about Hermione?"

The room was eerily silent.

"They _don't_ , do they?"

Hermione's face turned crestfallen, but she batted away her pain as she replied, "I'm sure Draco has his reasons, Neville. Just like I have mine for asking you to help us. Will you?"

"Pretend to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Neville wasn't convinced. "So I'm just supposed to what? Kiss on you and pretend that everything is fine between us? Like you didn't dump me to go out with bottle-haired Malfoy?"

"Two things," Malfoy cut in, sharply. "One. You kiss her, I'll shove that tie down the back of your throat, and two: my hair is natural and does _not come from any bottle_."

"I'm not to kiss her? How the Hell do you suggest we make it convincing?"

"I don't know, Longbottom, but I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Fine. But you're going to owe me, Malfoy. More than just the favor you owe me now," he pointed out, picking up his quill and dipping it in some ink. He jotted something down on a spare bit of parchment and pushed it across the table to him. Malfoy reached for it, plucked it up, and furrowed his brows.

"What's this?"

"My price." He smiled. "For helping you."

"So you'll do it?" Hermione gasped, snatching the paper to read over his request.

"Only if Malfoy does that bit there," Neville commented, smirking. "Can you get him to?"

"He won't be happy about it, but yes. I'd say he can."

"Forget it," Malfoy snapped. "That's an outrageous amount of money to donate."

"So hold a charity event. Figure it out. You want my help? You donate that amount there to St. Mungo's for research into my parent's condition."

"You're requiring me to make sacrifices."

"Poor wittle Malfoy. Too frightened to talk to Mummy and Daddy?"

Malfoy turned his head over towards Hermione, who looked pleadingly at him. "Fine. You'll have your money but don't expect a thank you." He rose from his chair and stalked out of Neville's office, leaving the door wide open. Neville gave a sigh, stood, and walked across the room to shut it.

"That's the difference, I guess, between Gryffindors and Slytherins."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Gryffindors would slam the door shut in a fit of anger. A Slytherin will leave a door wide open to make someone else shut it."

Hearing her laugh at his anecdote, Neville's resolve to stay angry at her cracked. No matter who Hermione dated, she was still _Hermione_. Surely she wouldn't have gone into this half-cocked. Still, the way she looked when Malfoy admitted to not telling his family gave him pause.

"Hermione, I don't mean to pry, but -why?"

"Why Draco?"

He nodded.

She sighed. "It's a complicated answer to give. He's not at all like the way you just saw him. When he's not on the defensive, he's actually funny. And smart. I appreciate his cleverness, and his tenderness."

"Malfoy? Tender?" Neville sat back down in his chair. "What, like a chicken wing?"

Again, he stoked a laugh from her. It made him feel accomplished. "He's kind, Neville. He just doesn't trust easily."

"Sounds like you're making an awful lot of excuses for him."

"I'm not. Really…"

"Devil's advocate here: have you asked yourself why he hasn't come clean to his parents about you?"

Hermione shrugged, picking up her satchel. "I assume it has something to do with the fact that I haven't come clean to Ron. I'm sure he'll open up, when the time is right." She sounded convinced, but her eyes told a different story. She threw the satchel strap over her shoulder and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Neville. Really. You're the best." She walked around the table, kissed him on the cheek, and left with a much happier kick to her stride.

Neville, on the other hand, was nowhere near alright. The kiss on his cheek tingled like a vibration spell, and he wished she hadn't done it at all. It just complicated the memories of her in scantily clad knickers bending over on a bed while tugging said knickers down to reveal…

"Shite." He put his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes as if it would rid the memories away. He couldn't believe Hermione Granger would be smitten with someone like Malfoy. He didn't feel out for blood, the way Ron would, but he did feel hurt. Hurt that, aside from Malfoy's good looks and oodles of inheritance, he couldn't imagine what else the aristocrat had going for him. Aside from Hermione on his arm. On his bed. "Shite," he said again.

He thought back to Malfoy's favor, the one that didn't require him to spend money. Just a potion. Neville guessed this was as good a time as any to call on it. Confidence boosting potions were meticulously tricky, and Neville never had a steady hand in Potions. He'd just have to use the confidence potion for the Weasley get-together, and in that time, convince Hermione to see reason. Malfoy dating Hermione… it was worse than him being an escort. Because an escort implied no feelings involved. And, if Neville knew anything about Malfoy, it was that his first priority was himself, and everyone else was placed by the wayside.

* * *

That evening, while getting ready for bed, Hermione felt restless. Excitement blossomed in her chest that Neville agreed to help them, but a nagging ate away at her as well. One that reminded her that Draco, for all of his preaching, still had not told his parents about his relationship with her. She paced her bedroom back and forth, trying to come up with a reason, but none would surface. She was so desperate to find one that she hurried to dress, and just when she began to pry open the door to confront him in his dormitory, she found Draco standing at her doorway, hand poised to knock, mouth open as if to call her name.

"Draco?"

"Hermione," he sighed, tucking his hand behind his back in embarrassment. "Er… what I meant was… hello, Hermione."

"Hello." She frowned.

His eyes scanned over her hastily buttoned dress-robes. "Going somewhere?"

"Coming to find you, actually."

"Ah." He smirked, feigning confidence. "Well, here I am."

"Yes." She relaxed her face, but did not smile back. "Here you are."

"Look, I apologize for storming off this afternoon. I let my anger get the better of me, and I acted accordingly."

"You did act like a fool, I'll agree, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

He scratched under his chin, thoughtful. "I have a feeling I know why, then. Something that rhymes with Ucius and Arcissa?"

She couldn't help the giggle that found its way out her mouth. "Something like that."

He offered out his hand, hopeful. "Come with me."

Hermione eyed over his silver-blue orbs, his bobbing Adam's apple, his perfectly pressed robes, and finally, down to his hand. There were doubts swimming all around that head of hers, but she placed her hand in his, anyway. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to do something I should have done years ago."

Hermione shut the door behind her and allowed Draco to lead her down the staircase and towards the moving staircases in the center of Hogwarts. "Draco," she whispered, keeping an eye out for Filch or Peeves, "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he smirked, winking at her. He pulled her on to one of the staircases just as it was about to ascend. Hermione gasped, not ready as one foot stood on the staircase and the other on the platform. Draco tugged her up, and she fell forward into his chest, much resembling the day they'd chatted here on these very steps. And just like that day, Hermione felt her body tense as she inhaled his cologne and listened to his heartbeat against his sternum. She pried her eyes up to his, blushing.

"Hi," she squeaked.

"Hello," he replied.

She pushed herself up to stand, feeling silly. "Are we going to talk about it?"

"About my parents?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You haven't told them."

"You haven't told Weasley."

"Is that the reason, then?" she asked, nearly desperate for answers.

He pried his eyes away from her, glancing up at the approaching balcony. "I just haven't found the right moment, Hermione. I don't talk to them much while the school year is in session. I suppose I'll be forced to, now, with Longbottom's request."

"Can't you just gather the money?"

"My mother would throw a fit if I donated that obscene amount without making it into some spectacle to put the Malfoys in a pleasing light. I'll be forced to attend some sort of charity function, no doubt. It makes me sick."

"It can't be all that bad," she offered, treading the subject carefully, "At least, then you'll get a chance to tell them about us."

He glanced down to her. "Yeah. Perhaps."

The staircase came to a halt, and he pulled her along, up to the fifth floor. Hermione looked this way and that, trying her best to figure it out before he told her where they were going. As they slipped down a corridor that held Boris the Bewildered, it dawned on her. She gasped, "The Prefects' Bathroom? Tell me you're not-"

"-I'm perfectly serious, Hermione Granger," he said, not taking his eyes off of the fourth door to the statue's left. He recited the password, "Horntail Toes," and tugged her in behind him. He made quick work of spelling the door shut, grinning ear-to-ear. "Hermione," he said to her, "How would you like to take my virginity?"

* * *

Draco adored the way her face lit to life with blush and embarrassment at his question. He'd planned this event for some time, ever since watching the irritated expression he procured from admitting to losing it to Pansy in this very room. After their melancholy victory with Longbottom today, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to see this through.

"Wh-What?" she whispered, glancing around at the pool-sized bath in the center of the room. "Draco, maybe you don't understand how virginity works."

He laughed, bringing her knuckles up to her lips to kiss them. "Oh, I'm very well aware. But it shouldn't have been Pansy. It should have been you."

Her entire face turned pink, right down to her ears. "I very much doubt my teenage self would agree with you."

"I don't think my teenage self would agree either. But aren't we lucky we're Professors, and can do whatever we please?" He released her and strolled over to the different taps, eyeing the selections. "I'm thinking lavender? With hints of rosemary?"

"Draco! This is abusing our status!"

"So?"

"So!" She chewed on her lip, thinking. "So…" She watched him unclasp his robes and set them on the floor, revealing him in only a set of boxer-briefs and grey-short sleeve shirt. "…we best not get caught."

"That's my girl." Draco slipped into the bath feet first and began to turn on several taps, mixing the aromas in the air to entice her. "Come on in, Granger. The water's warm."

"Aren't you afraid your heart might freeze it?" she teased, removing her robes as well. She was still dressed in her long pajama bottoms and camisole top. Had she been going to bed before he'd decided to show up at her door?

"Ha. Ha." He stuck out his tongue and reached his arms up to pull her in. Hermione expelled a breath, extended her arms, and let him pull her into the tub bridal style, dangling her toes and bum into the water, but not much else. Her arms draped around his neck, pulling their faces close to one another's. Draco smirked, reveling in the way she hadn't fought him on this like he planned. His shirt began to soak up the bubbles and water around his stomach, weighting it like a buoy. "Have to set you down now, Princess." Without warning, he tossed her into the tub.

Hermione screamed as she flew first into the air then the water, and when she came up for air, her curls plastered to her cheeks by soapy water, Draco pried off his shirt to distract her. And distract her, it did. Her eyes roamed over his chest and abdomen, raking in his lean muscles and pale physique. When he finished tossing the shirt onto the floor outside the pool, he pulled her close to him and brushed some of the curls away from her nose.

"You're a jerk," she said, though it was half-hearted and full of playfulness.

"I can't help it if I like you _wet_ ," he teased, curving his hands behind her ass to lift her up against him. Her legs, instinctively, wrapped around his hips, and Draco knew she could feel his half-formed erection pressed against her covered clit.

Her hands went up to his hair, soaping it. "Why do you call me Princess?"

"You don't like it?" he asked as he quirked an eyebrow.

"I never said that," her eyes met his, calm and steady like a current, "I just wondered."

"You had a nickname, back in school," Draco admitted, already feeling the flush to his cheeks. "A lot of us in Slytherin made bets on how long you'd stay a virgin. We called you Gryffindor's Golden Princess."

"Did _you_ take a bet?"

"Merlin, no." He snorted. "You think I wanted any of my mates thinking I fantasized about when someone would pluck your delicate flower? No, I made fun of the ones who took the bets. Though, I had wondered…"

"Wondered?"

"It was Weasley, wasn't it? Who you lost it with?"

She averted her gaze to his collarbone, then. "Yes. -But not in Hogwarts. After."

Draco laughed, surprised that he didn't feel as jealous as he anticipated he would. Maybe it was the fact that he had her here, alone, where his sexual conquests began. "Was he any good?" he ribbed.

"Ron?" she grinned, bashful. "No, not really. It was his first time as well, and… he didn't last very long."

"How long is not very?"

Laughing quietly, she punched him in the shoulder. "Why? Hoping for a new virginity record?"

"Maybe." His fingers on her ass tightened, and she gasped, closing her eyes. "Answer the question, Princess. Unless you care to prove that you would have made a better Hufflepuff than Gryffindor."

Her eyes opened in slits, and she smiled at his challenge. "Somewhere around two minutes and forty five seconds."

Draco clucked his tongue. "Youch." Had she really timed it? He chuckled into his shoulder, and then slipped one hand up her back to rest just between her shoulder blades. His lips brushed against hers before he nibbled at the lower one. "I hope he, at least, got a bit better at making it last. It would be a shame if, for all these years, you were never fully satisfied."

She moved to kiss him, but he pulled his face back and just out of her reach, finding a lock of her hair down her back with his hand to give it a firm pull. She hissed a breath, but her mouth pulled into a satisfied grin. "I'd say I'm fully satisfied now, so what does it matter about the past?"

His cock jumped happily at her words, and he began to tug down the hem of her pajamas. "I only ask because I want to make sure you're always satisfied, Hermione." He walked her over to the edge of the bath and placed her on the edge, feet dangling in the water. Her pants already down over the curve of her hips, he tugged them all the way off. They made a slapping sound as they were discarded beside his shirt. "Underwear, too, love."

"Isn't this a bit weird?" she asked, though she obliged and let him slip her underwear down over her ankles before tossing them onto the tap. "Don't you have memories here? With Pansy?" She removed her shirt.

"Pansy?" He grinned devilishly. "Pansy who? All I see…" He tugged her forward and knelt between her legs, "is you." And just like that, his tongue was on her. The taste of the water mixed with her delicious flavor sent a shiver down Draco's spine, and he recalled the handful of woman who he'd bestowed this sort of treatment to. While all appreciative, none of them gasped and sighed the way that Hermione did, like his tongue against her nub was a Godsend. With each kiss and lick, he could hear her give a little bit more up to him, feeding his soul with hers. And Merlin, her pussy was so perfect. It was soft, and wet, and warm, and everything that a man imagined. He delighted in the way her body flushed in response to him and the way his body responded in return.

"Draco," she gasped as he applied a bit more pressure while sliding his tongue against her center, "ah, oh, oh, God… that's it, right there." His tongue pressed against her clit at the same time that he kissed it sensually, and she all but cried out in pleasure, one of her legs quaking next to his cheek, while the other found its way onto his shoulder. She laid back against the tile floor, curls spilling out around her face, eyes closed. Draco watched her chest rise and fall as she panted for breath, her breasts heaving up and down while the nipples pebbled. So beautiful, he thought idly, before focusing his attention to her clitoris, pushing her legs apart to heighten the sensation. He dug his nails into her thighs, and a hand slipped into his hair to give it a tug. "Mmgod…"

Smirking, he whispered between licks, "It should have been us, back then. Here. Sharing this moment." One of his hands trailed up her stomach and play with a nipple between the pads of his fingers, while his tongue stroked her. "Say it, Hermione. Say it should have been me."

"It.. ah! It should have been you. Always you."

"Always me. Yes…" He gave her clit one last kiss before licking a path up to her belly button, resting his chin on her stomach. "Do you want to come back into this bath and show me how it should have been?"

Hermione's head shot up, and she met his heated smirk with one of her own. "Oh. Yes, please."

She hopped back into the tub, scooting back against the pool wall as Draco dove in to capture her lips in a possessive kiss. She tasted sweet, like candy canes, most likely from the toothpaste she used before bedtime. It didn't take Draco long, between the kissing, to free his cock from the confines of his boxers, and with one confirming glance of approval from her, he shoved into her, hard. Hermione gasped, burying her face into his shoulder as he filled her all the way to the base, stretching her sensitive muscles. "Mmm… I love how tight you are." He kissed against her neck, withdrawing himself to the hilt to slam back into her again. "And warm." He repeated the process once more. "That pussy is perfect, Hermione. _You're_ perfect." His fingers slipped around her pelvis, claiming his as they held her in place for him to pound mercilessly into her. And even though his thrusts were rough, his kisses were tender as he left them along her neck, her cheek, her shoulder. Each time his cock nestled inside of her, he felt his stomach come undone, as if the world shifted. There was in these moments with her he'd never experienced with any of his other 'lovers' -because, in truth, Draco Malfoy had never been in love before.

There were times in which he thought he _might_ have been, but when push came to shove, he would always take his feelings into account first and foremost, selfishly giving in to his wants. And by what he heard, that wasn't love at all.

But with Hermione, all he wanted was her happiness. He hated the way her face had fallen at the mention of his parents. It was the reason why he'd needed to escape the confines of Longbottom's office: so that he didn't have to face the fact that he messed up in a big way. Once he stowed himself away in his room, he regretted his actions immediately -something he just _didn't_ do. He'd been on the cusp of feeling the dreaded L word for some time now, but seeing her so disappointed sealed his fate. He was in love with Hermione Granger, and he didn't reckon he would ever be the same again.

The water slapped against the edge of the pool as Hermione began to meet his thrusts with the roll of her hips, and with their weight supported in the water, she was able to slide up and down his cock with ease, teasing him to the tip before sheathing him once again in her warmth.

"Fuck," Draco sighed, digging his fingers into her hip bones. "You're… so good at this…"

"You're not too bad yourself," she giggled into his ear, making him quirk his head up to meet her lustful gaze. She rested her arms on the pool's edge and rolled her hips, once again stirring a string of obscenities from his lips. "Enjoying yourself, Draco?"

He laughed airily, "Nah. Not a bit." Carefully, he pulled her back into the water, still pressed deep within her, and laid her back into the water. She floated there, arms spread out, eyes closed, hair floating around like a lovely halo of brunette. "You're gorgeous, Hermione. The most beautiful witch I've ever seen."

Her eyes came open, and she curled up into his arms, draping her arms around his neck to press her lips to his. And there she rode him in the bath, using his shoulders as leverage to bring his cock to the tip before pushing him back inside of her again. When Draco had lost his virginity all those years ago, it had been sloppy, his back pressed up against the concrete pool edge while Pansy attempted a terrible display of what Hermione was doing so incredibly. He remembered being grateful for the sex, but wishing it would end so that the pain in his back would cease. With Hermione, he hoped he could get lost in this bath with her for eternity. Maybe, one day, he could furnish a home of his own that would hold a bath just like this, and they could make love in it at least three times a week.

"Her..mione…" he murmured between an exceptionally pleasing grinding of her hips, "I love…" shit, what was he doing? "-the way you do that," he added quickly, feeling the humiliation crack over his head like an egg. How could he allow himself to slip up like that? Knowing he was in love was one thing. Admitting it out loud, when he had never said the words that way before… well, that was something quite different. Besides, it wasn't as if she felt the same. Relationships were fun. Easy. Love was messy and destructive. If he told her, it would most certainly cause a rift between them. He couldn't afford that. Not when he was sure, if he could just hold out long enough, one day, she would feel it, too.

She gave a quiet gasp as he hit a new angle within her, and her head fell back. "God, Draco. I…" Their eyes connected, and she brushed her nose against his. "How is it? Your born again first time?"

He kissed her, gently, before answering. "Everything. It's everything." And there they stayed for quite some time, rocking against each other until they came undone. Hermione muttered something about having to _scourgify_ the pool before they left, and Draco made some quip about how he imagined the Prefects had probably done much worse, and they laughed as they climbed out of the tub. Hermione laid across his chest, still panting heavily, when she leaned over him and said, "You'll talk to your family, won't you? In time?"

The hope glistening in her eyes gave him purpose, and, not wanting to let her down, he stroked her cheek and nodded. "Yeah, Hermione. Whatever you want."


	24. A Regret

**Producing chapters like they're going out of style! Waymay proofed this for me, so she deserves all the thanks! 3 I hope, LightofEvolution, your plot bunny still makes you pleased. :) Everyone will have to trust me over the next couple of chapters. K? K. :)**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"I Still Make Her Cry" by The Strumbellas**

* * *

"Consent." Hermione looked outwards at the crowd of fourth-years, seriousness etched in her tone. Draco stood by her side, eyes forward, jaw clenched. "What does it mean to give someone consent? Does it simply mean someone saying the word 'yes'? If they're not in their right mind, is consent still able to be given? Where does one draw the line?"

There was no projector in which to display charts or diagrams. Instead, she gestured outwards, to the cardboard signs situated in front of each and every student. On one side, the word 'yes' was written, and on the other, in bold lettering, 'NO'.

"As you grow up, you're going to find the lines blurred a time or two, and you're going to wonder where to draw the line. Respecting another's boundaries is the key to any healthy relationship, sexual or otherwise. But, since this is a sexual education classroom, I believe you can figure out why we're here today. So, I'd like everyone to reach out, pick up your sign, and point the yes out towards your classmates." The students did so, some reluctantly sharing awkward glances with each other. "Great. Now, Professor Malfoy and I are going to offer out some questions. I want you to answer honestly, if you think consent can be given in these situations."

Draco cleared his throat and read off the first question. "If someone says they are not comfortable with taking things any further than kissing, is consent given to continue?"

The classroom lit up in a sigh of relieved giggles. One by one, the students turned their signs to 'NO.'

"Well, that was easy," said Tabitha from Slytherin.

"You think so?" Draco smirked, calling her out in front of the class. "Well, in that case, perhaps you'd be so kind as to answer our second question. -If someone says yes, and then decides during the act that they wish not to continue, is consent still given?"

Tabitha furrowed her brows. "I don't think so…"

"But," said Gregory from Gryffindor, "If they say yes, they mean it, don't they?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Hermione smiled, though the subject did not make her happy. This was her least favorite part, but one of the most important ones, in Sex Ed. "Does anyone have the right to decide for someone when they're ready for anything? Relationships should be treated like a Healer's visit."

Lidia Cornelia raised her hand. "Meaning, the Healer and the patient must both give consent before treatment?"

"Precisely. -Or," Hermione offered, "Think of it as a dance. Maybe you started to dance but decided that you'd like to go back to the table instead. No one has the right to force you to dance, even if you've done it a thousand times. And no one gets to decide who your partner is, or even if you decide you want one at all."

"So, let's try this again." Draco peered over the bundle of students. "If someone is intoxicated, but says yes, is it consent?"

Some turned their signs to yes, others to no. There were glances this way and that, as if looking at one another might stir up an appropriate answer. Finally, someone raised their hand- it just so happened to be Liam.

"This is one of those blurred lines you were speaking of, because when you're intoxicated, you're not allowed to ride a broomstick. If you're that wasted, you shouldn't be hopping into bed with someone."

"Fair point," said Tabitha, standing up from her own table, "But what if the person legitimately wants the intimacy? My parents have done it loads of times while drunk off their rocker."

Hermione had to hold it in not to laugh -Draco outright did it without pause.

He threw his hand up, stifling himself. "But your parents are two consenting adults who have been with each other for quite some time, and know their limitations. They can trust each other to make a fair assessment -that is, after all, why they're married, I presume. _Trust_."

Hermione wondered if Draco's parents trusted each other the way he described. It was hard to picture Lucius Malfoy as anything but cold and calloused. But perhaps, deep down inside, he was a softy like Draco? Sure. And pigs could fly without the help of a levitation charm… What would Draco be like? As a husband? Not that she wanted to marry any time soon, and not that she wanted to marry Draco (she told herself that was absurd.) But she couldn't help but wonder what kind of a man he would make. Despite everything, she did recognize that day, at the end of the War, the way Lucius and Narcissa held each other on the battlefield. As if their lives were in each other's arms, and only extended by Draco. Hermione was lucky to have a set of parents equally as loving, though hardly as manipulative.

"The point Professor Malfoy and I make is this; if you have to question if consent is given freely, then it isn't, and you should act accordingly." Hermione shuffled through her paperwork, feeling her face flush with heat. This was the worst of the lesson, she reminded herself. Best to get it over with quickly. "Which… leads us into the discussion of rape."

The Great Hall fell silent at once, and most of the students placed their signs back down on the table.

"When consent isn't given, the act that follows, whether it be enjoyable for both parties or not, is rape. Let me repeat that -just because someone's body responds to physical stimulation does not mean it is consent."

A redheaded Ravenclaw by the name of Gillespie Turnboot raised her hand. "Professor Granger, aren't there different acts of foreplay where people say no but mean yes?" She blushed as scarlet as her hair, but continued. "I… might have read some fanfiction…"

"Fanfiction?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Muggle internet stories. Things you wouldn't have any interest in," Hermione interjected quickly, "But what Miss Turnboot says brings up another point: how can you tell when someone is playing a role and when they mean it?" She waited for the responses, which came timidly.

"Saying it more than once."

"Crying."

"Stating that they are not playing a game."

"If they kick you in the nads."

"All valid points," Hermione nodded. "Showing physical signs of distress is, ultimately, the greatest tell. And should be met with the appropriate response; ceasing your actions immediately. I don't speak only to the boys when I say this. I also mean the girls."

She thought back to her days in Hogwarts, when Lavender Brown would drag Ron down any given corridor to slip her hands down his pants. Later in life, in the privacy of their own bedroom, Ron had admitted that he didn't like it when Lavender did those things. But he didn't know how to get her to stop, and he said he felt silly telling anyone about it. Hermione made it her mission, since then, to always make sure men understood both sides; they could be forced into sexual acts just as well as the women. And it was okay to say 'NO.'

"One of my very dear friends was forced into sexual acts because he was afraid to say no to the girl. Woman are just as capable of making the same mistakes that men do. Understanding, and respecting, boundaries is the only way to break the cycle. -And this doesn't just apply to men with women and women with men. This also includes same sex coupling as well. No one has the right to tell you what to do with your body except you."

"Or your heart," Draco said suddenly, startling them both. They exchanged shy glances with each other before blushing and turning away.

"Right," she agreed, "Or your heart." A smile crept its way up her lips, and she felt a tug at her heartstrings. "No one has the right to tell you who you can date. As long as both parties are consenting, and legalities in order, there should be no reason why you can't-" her mind hesitated for a split second, but the word fell out anyways, "-love who you want to. Taking a stand, in the face of all odds, is most certainly the bravest thing one can do. It is why my friend _Harry_ is so popular." She gave the class a wink.

"She just had to mention him," Draco quipped, and the classroom lit to life in laughter.

"Be thankful he isn't here right now. He'd be blushing as red as a tomato."

* * *

After class, Liam strolled up to the Professors, wiping his hands on the sides of his robes as if they were clammy. "Professors." He nodded to them both.

"Hello, Liam," Hermione greeted kindly, "What can we do for you?"

"Erm. Well, just Professor Malfoy, I'm afraid." He ran his fingers through his tresses and sighed, glancing at the Potions professor nervously. "You know that charity event your family's got going on next week?"

"Yes," Draco said icily, as if the thought sickened him.

"My Dad wrote to me telling me I had to attend. Something about wanting to look good for the Sacred Twenty-Eight? I don't even know what that is."

"A tired, pureblood tradition," Hermione jostled under her breath, loud enough for Draco to hear. He rolled his eyes at her, then turned them on Liam.

"What's your point, Killingsworth?"

"He asked me to ask you if I could travel with you? Since you'll be going as well."

"I see. And does this have anything to do with him thinking it will make the Killingsworths look good in the eyes of the Twenty-Eight if you were to arrive with me?"

"Something like that." Liam expelled a breath, eyebrows contorted into a mix of agitation and annoyance. "I'm not too keen on it, but he says he's already asked your Father, and…"

"Sure," Draco nodded, as if he understood, and placed a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Overbearing fathers can be a pain in the arse, hmm?"

"Yessir," Liam chuckled, eyes widening at the word 'arse'. "Are… are you allowed to speak that way to a student?"

"Right now, you're not my student. You're my tag-along." Draco smirked. "Do make sure to dress in something nice, won't you? I refuse to bring you with me if you dress in anything less than appropriate for a socialite function."

"My Mum's already getting my robes tailored," Liam grinned ear-to-ear.

Hermione, as she gathered her paperwork, wondered what it must be like to be them; two boys, raised by traditional upbringing, always expected to be prim, proper, and up for the task of socialization. It was amazing that Draco was so intelligent, considering his mind had been stuffed with which fork was for what food and how to glide gracefully across the room without bouncing. All that fodder seemed worthless in lieu of higher education. Her parents never cared much for if she crossed her ankles at a table as long as she received good grades and brushed her teeth after every meal.

As Liam trotted happily away towards Lidia, who waited for him by the doorway, Hermione stuffed her paperwork in her satchel and said, "So, it's next week, then? The fundraiser?"

"Next Saturday. Didn't I tell you?"

"No." She could feel her eyebrows pinch together, but tried to play it off like she'd gotten a papercut instead of being extremely irritated. She put her thumb to her mouth as if she'd cut her finger open, but really she bit down on it to keep from screaming. "You didn't."

"Ah. Well. No time like the present, no?" He smirked.

"No." She glared. "So, you've spoken with your parents, then, I presume?"

"Yes. That's typically how one of these fundraisers is crafted- through the unyielding current that is my mother's resolve to make the Malfoys still appear relevant."

"And did you discuss anything _else_ while on the path to fulfil your agreement with Neville?" Her voice rose an octave as she strained for self-control.

Draco raised an eyebrow, not getting the picture. "You mean flower arrangements? Or the band? I suggested she try to reunite the Weird Sisters for an encore performance…"

"Oh, for heaven's -US, Draco. I meant _us_!"

"Oh." He blinked. "No, I haven't spoken to them about that yet."

"Oh?" She mocked him. "That's what you have to say? Oh?"

"Come on, Hermione. Don't be that way."

"What way, Draco? You mean irritated? Because you've spoken to your parents recently but still haven't come clean that you're sleeping with a muggleborn? Or perhaps you mean hurt? Because you've had nearly a month to do it, and you promised you would?"

"I said soon," he said in a hushed voice.

"When will soon be? Another month? Six months? A year?"

"Not _that_ long."

"But I'm just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen? To trust you that it will?"

"Of course you're supposed to trust me," he snapped, allowing the tension to grip his sharp features. "Isn't that what makes up a relationship? Trust?"

"How can I trust you if your actions don't follow your words?"

"They _will_ , Hermione." He crossed his arms. "But I don't see you opening your heart up to your family, either. Do they even know I _exist_?"

Hermione had been waiting for this moment, and like a student prepared for a pop quiz, she grinned twistedly. "Actually, they _do_. They heard about you for years. All the times you made me cry, or tripped me in the halls. Or when you enlarged my teeth." She set her shoulders and balled her hands. "But they also know that I work with you, and that we're seeing each other."

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced. "Since when?"

"I wrote to them after we made it official. I was so excited that I barely could contain myself." Her hands began to shake, and she took in a deep breath to calm her nerves. "My father wasn't too happy at first, but my Mum was ecstatic."

"Really…" His eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. "Really?" He tapped his finger to his chin, bewildered. " _Really_?"

"Yes, Draco. Really."

"You just -what? Up and told them? Just like that?"

"Yes. Because that's what normal people do when they're not ashamed of being with someone."

"You think I'm ashamed?"

Hermione slipped her hands into her robes pockets, running her fingertips along the diamond cufflinks she carried around with her on most days. They were there to remind her of Draco's promise to show her off. But he hadn't done that, had he? He'd kept her a secret to his family, and that was just as bad as these cufflinks being tucked away in her pocket. "I know you are." Swallowing hard, she pulled the cufflinks out and slipped them into his hand.

He glanced down, and hurt spread across his face. "Hermione…"

"When you're ready to show me off like a pair of those, I'll be waiting." She felt the first tears spill down her cheeks, and she turned her back to the Great Hall to keep from allowing any remaining students to see her cry. "Until then, I think it's best if you have those back."

"Are you breaking up with me?" He asked quietly.

"Is that what you'd like me to do?"

"I don't _want_ it, no." His voice quivered. "I want us to be together."

"Then you know what choice you have to make." She glanced to him, putting on her best smile, though the tears still leaked down her face. "I won't force you to tell them. Consent, remember? I won't be the person that tells you how to live your life, or what to do. And I won't end us because of it. I just… Maybe I just need a little space, is all."

She made to move away, and Draco reached out, fingers resting on her arm but not grabbing hold. She stopped to look at him.

"Hermione." He looked down at the cufflinks in his hands, and then up to her. "It's not that I don't want to tell them. I do. But you don't know my father the way I do. I'm not afraid of what they'll think. I'm afraid of how they'll act once they know. They might decide to scrub the charity event all together. And while I think Longbottom is an obnoxious twat, that doesn't mean that his parents should suffer because of it."

Hermione's heart jumped, and she stepped back into his personal space. "You actually care about the donation?"

"Given time to look into it, I think the cause is justified. Using a Slytherin tactic against a Slytherin is why Longbottom pissed me off, but I get it now. Why he did it." He tore his eyes away from her, embarrassed. "The Longbottoms are a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so it's how I got my father to agree to donate to St. Mungo's. But if he knew about us before then, he'd make it a point to donate the money to some 'worthier' cause to get back at me for defying tradition."

"That's… that's horrible."

"That's Lucius Malfoy." Draco shrugged. "Please. Just give me a while longer. I promised you whatever you wanted. But you're going to have to trust in me to do the right thing, when the timing is right." His eyes flickered up to hers and searched for forgiveness. "Please." He offered out the cufflinks between them, but Hermione shook her head.

"Keep them." She curled his fingers around them, closing his hand. "Give them back to me when you've fulfilled your promise. I trust you." She leaned up, kissed his cheek, and gave a sad smile as she walked away, refusing to look back at him should she dare cry herself into a puddle of tears. She managed to make it to her dormitory before collapsing onto her bed and sobbing.

It wasn't as if she could ask him to come out to his parents now, what with the charity event so close. And with the Weasley's get together only a week out itself, she had no reason to be so bossy. Maybe it was because she wanted so desperately to tell him she loved him. Maybe that's what had driven her to be so sad at hearing his lack of honesty with his family. How could she pour her heart out to someone who couldn't be himself to the ones it mattered most?

"I'm such a hypocrite," she said, burying her face into her pillow. "I can't even tell Ron, and I expect him to be honest to his family? Stupid, Hermione. Really stupid." She swiped at her tears. "Now I've gone and mucked it all up again. Why did I give those back? Why?" She reached over to a tissue box near her bed, plucked out three tissues, and blew into them all at once. "I shouldn't have said anything." But she knew, no matter how hard she wished it, she couldn't take the words back. They were out there, floating between them, and she'd have to deal with the consequences, whichever way the wind blew.

* * *

Draco found himself working late into the evening, pouring himself over freshly-graded essays to avoid the stinging fact that his cufflinks had been returned to him and now sat idly atop his desk like two of Hermione's glistening teardrops. The image of her crying in the Great Hall burned into his corneas, and he feared he might never get rid of the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of letting her down. _Again_.

"Stupid, Draco. Seriously, you're the most idiotic man on the face of the planet," he mumbled to himself, resting his forehead on top of Lidia Cornelia's excessive six foot essay on Wolfsbane. Over and over again, he nodded his head into the desk, trying to shake him from his underlined guilt. "You're such a fucking coward. You can't even tell Hermione you love her, let alone tell your parents about her. Fuck."

He raised his head and scooped up the cufflinks to study them. He remembered the first time he had worn these cufflinks; it was at his grandfather's funeral in his sixth year. Abraxas Malfoy had willed them to Draco, and his mother had forced him to wear them not even three days after his grandfather's passing. It had felt perverse to him then, wearing a dead man's jewelry, but his Father had pulled him aside after the funeral to explain that it was an honor to show off the heirloom.

* * *

' _It means, Draco, that you're proud of where you've come from. You are proud to be his grandson, no?'_

' _Of course,' Draco had said at once, not wanting to disappoint his father, though the crippling weight of losing someone so precious still made his head swim with pain, 'I loved him.'_

' _Then you show those off. Let them represent your love for him. It's what he would have wanted.'_

* * *

It meant so much to him when he left these with Hermione, as if he could finally share his heart with someone else. And to have her give them back meant he failed her.

There was a knock at the door, and Draco clenched his hand tight as Neville Longbottom strolled in, still dressed in his work attire, though his tie hung loosely around his throat. "Mind if I come in?"

"Looks like you already have," Draco sneered, opening up the top drawer of his desk to slide the cufflinks in. Stowing them away, he jerked his eyes up to Neville and gave him the largest glower he could manage. "I'm not really in the mood for company, Longbottom, so make it snappy."

"I've just come to reel in the favor you owe me," Neville said, taking a seat atop one of the workbenches in front of Draco's desk. "You know. For helping you with Sex Ed."

"Oh. That." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Can't it wait? I'm a bit busy with the fundraiser and grading these practice exams for NEWTS and…" And his heart hurt. It literally hurt in his chest right now, thinking about Hermione and those damned cufflinks. "Seriously, Longbottom. I don't have the time."

"Well, make time, then," said Neville, crossing his arms. "I need a confidence potion by next Saturday."

"Confidence potion?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "What ever for? Aren't you just oozing with it?" The sarcasm was not missed by Neville, who rolled his eyes in response.

"For the Weasley get-together." Oh yes. The events were held on the same day, weren't they? "You told me to figure out how to play it off like Hermione and I are together, and the only way I know how to do that is to be more like you. You know: arrogant."

"You mean poised."

"I mean self-assured." Neville threw up his pointer finger. "I can't very well lie to my friends without some confidence. And I'm awful at making Potions. Especially such a complex one. So, that's my favor."

"And you have no ulterior motives?" Draco snorted a laugh. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you wish, but you agreed to make me a Potion. Whatever I wanted."

"I've told you, I haven't time."

"Well, find the time then. Because it's the only way I'm going to sell it."

Draco snarled under his breath, thoroughly put off. Not one to go gently into that goodnight, he perched his face in a heinous smirk and offered, "Come on, Longbottom. Wouldn't you rather have one of those alteration potions? I'm sure the ladies would find you slightly less grotesque if you didn't have such a large forehead."

"I have no idea what she sees in you," Neville retorted, but did not give in to the taunt. "I'll pick it up next Friday evening? Sound good to you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"Great." Neville hopped off of the table and left without another word.

Draco made sure the door shut before he opened up the drawer in his desk and stared down at the cufflinks. ' _I have no idea what she sees in me either, at this point.'_


	25. A Parting

**Okay! We are so close to the climactic moments! Thank you Waymay for editing this chap, and thank you LightofEvolution for the small, cute lemon in this chap.**

 **I really feel for Draco in this chapter. And Hermione. But don't worry. I don't plan to cock this up. This story, hopefully, will be amazing from beginning to end.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Dance Dance" by Fall Out Boy**

* * *

The following week was one of the worst in Draco Malfoy's life. And he knew good and well that he included nearly killing Dumbledore, the Battle of Hogwarts, and almost dying in fiendfyre in his worst moments. Because, over the next week, Hermione ignored him at great lengths any time she could. And if there was one thing ingrained inside of a Malfoy, it was the passive-aggressive irritation that came when they were not the center of the world.

In this case, Hermione's.

He offered time and time again to take her out to dinner Friday evening to make up for hurting her. She said she wasn't hurt, and he was being silly. He attempted to write her a letter explaining his feelings for her, but all he ended up with was a pile of parchment in his bin that he later torched (it wouldn't be favorable for some fifth year to dig it from the rubbish to read to the whole class). He tried catching her after her classes, kissing her in front of the students in the hallway, and even resorted to looking into her own, private island when she finally had enough and said, "Draco, I appreciate what you're doing. I do. But stop, alright?"

They were standing in her classroom, the last of her students for the day filing away to the Great Hall for dinner. Thursday had approached quicker than Draco anticipated, and he'd been so busy trying to woo her that he hardly noticed the sexual frustrations he felt in her presence now. They were like tiny bee-stings in the back of his brain compared to the knife in his chest. He felt like some desperate fool pining for a woman's attention, but -damn it. He just wanted to make her smile again. Once.

"Why?"

"Because I don't need all of this," she said, gesturing to the candies and sweets topped on her desk from where Draco had students randomly deliver through the week. "You don't need to try so hard."

"Of course, I do," he replied, eyebrows locked together in a state of confusion. They'd stayed there nearly every day this week. "You won't talk to me and can hardly stand to look at me." As if to prove him wrong, her soft, brown eyes pried their way up to his face instead of focused on the floor like all of this week. "If you don't want me anymore, just tell me. I'll leave you alone." His chest tightened at the thought. "But you need to _tell_ me to go away, or else, I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I…" His hands that rested on his pelvis shifted to his sides, and he gave a sigh of frustration. "I screwed up, and I'm trying to make it up to you."

"You don't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not much better, am I?" Hermione tapped her foot nervously as she curled her arms around herself, eyes falling to the floor once more. "I shouldn't have asked you to tell your family if I wasn't ready to tell mine. -Ron is my family, and… it's not right, what I'm doing. I just couldn't stand the thought of you losing what could possibly be the best thing that's happened to you because of me."

Draco couldn't help it -a smile broke out onto his face like a case of Dragonpox. "Hermione." He reached out, careful as he scooped her hand up in his and brushed her knuckles against his lips. "You're, quite possibly, the daftest witch of our generation." When she sent him an inquisitive stare, he added, confidently, " _You're_ the best thing that's happened to me."

He watched the heat spread across her face in the form of a subtle blush, and her eyes found their way to his again. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do."

"But I'm stubborn."

"So am I." He planted his feet firmly in front of her. "I'm not going anywhere, Granger. Sorry to burst your bubble of insecurity." He looked about the classroom to make sure the students were gone, and then placed his hands on the sides of her cheeks. "There's nothing else I'd like than to take you back to my room right now."

A tear slipped down her cheek -but she shook her head and pried his hands down to his sides. "Maybe some other time." She kissed him delicately on the lips and left. Draco remained, in fear that should he take a step, he might crumble apart entirely.

* * *

And it was so that Draco Malfoy became distracted through the entire week. In turn, he forgot to brew Neville Longbottom's confidence potion -that was, until Friday afternoon rolled around, and Longbottom showed up, knocking on his classroom door.

"Yes?" Draco sneered, still put off by the idea of Longbottom feigning romantic endeavors with the witch he was in love with. "What do you want?"

"It's Friday, remember?"

"Oh, is it?" He rolled his eyes. "It's good to know you can read a calendar."

"Sarcasm. Why is that always your M.O.?"

"It's how I show my love."

"Aww, is that a declaration, then?" Neville quipped, and even Draco had to give an impressed smirk. "I came to pick up the potion."

"What potion?"

"What potion? The confidence potion, of course!"

Oh yeah. Draco forgot all about it. "Oh.."

"Oh?" Neville sighed. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"How could you forget something like that, Malfoy? It's sort of important to the whole ruse we have going on."

"Longbottom?"

"Yeah?"

"Shove it." Draco rose from his desk and sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I've had a lot going on, alright? Hermione could barely stand to look at me this last week. I was a bit distracted." He marched over to his ingredients cabinet and began to pluck vials and jars out, placing them on a nearby workbench. "I'll get to work on it now."

"Will it be ready in time?"

"Should be."

" _Should_ be?"

"These things take time."

"Yeah. And I gave you a whole bloody week."

Draco's icy glare shut Longbottom up immediately, and he followed with, "You'll have your damned potion soon enough, alright? Honestly, nitpicking at me isn't going to make it brew any faster."

Neville stood in silence as he watched Draco work, eyeing over each and every ingredient. Time passed, until finally he said, "You and Hermione been having problems?"

"What makes you say that?" Draco tried to keep his tone even, though he heard the hitch at the end. Inwardly, he reprimanded himself for being so weak. It wasn't the Malfoy way. "We're fine."

"Fine." Neville raised both of his eyebrows. "Is that what you call avoiding eye contact for nearly a week?"

"Leave it alone, Longbottom. If you know what's good for you."

"Maybe I don't. -Hermione's my friend."

"Last time I checked, she was _my_ girlfriend."

"Last time I checked, she was mine as well." When Draco shot him a venomous glare, he added, "In a manner of speaking."

"We're fine," he said again, quieter this time. "I'm trying to make it up to her, so can we drop the subject?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Neville offered, and he sounded genuine. Draco's hand trembled, and he forced himself to set the poppy oil down, lest he put too many drops in. The last thing he needed to do was muck up this potion. "I'm not trying to pry. But, for some reason, I can't stand to look at you both this way. Hermione, especially, but also you." Their eyes met, both baffled by the words that spilled from Longbottom's mouth. "I may not like you, but you mean something to Hermione, so you mean something to me. What can I do?"

Draco tore his eyes away at once, fixating them on the cauldron as it bubbled with purple froth. "There's not a damned thing. This is my problem, Longbottom. And I intend to fix it."

"Does this have anything to do with your family?"

Draco's patience snapped like a twig in half, and he slammed his hand down on the counter. "Fuck sakes, Longbottom! Mind your own sodding business, would you? I don't pry into your personal affairs at the looney bin, so kindly shove your nose out of my family matters!"

His mouth slammed tightly shut, and he instantly regretted his choice of words. Longbottom looked hurt -legitimately _hurt_ at the reference towards his parents, and he crossed his arms, eyes glowering with dark turmoil. "Yeah. Sorry, Malfoy," he muttered, stepping back. "I'll leave you to it, then." He stomped off in a hurry, slamming the door and causing a framed photo of Severus Snape to shatter to the floor. Draco sighed, waved his hand, and spelled the bits of broken glass into the rubbish bin before levitating the photo onto his desk.

"Fuck…" he mumbled. "Cock it _all_ up, why don't you, Draco?"

As he poured in the essence of dittany, which was used to 'heal one's bruised ego' in this potion, his hands began to tremble. An extra drop fell into the mix, but he took no notice, too far gone in his own dim thoughts to realize his mistake.

* * *

Saturday, around noon, Hermione began the extremely irritating process of preparing for her two day stay with the Weasleys. Molly was never one to do things halfway, and Fleur's birthday turned into an entire family reunion. Ginny was the one to warn her, just a few days back through a letter, that Molly already set up tents in the backyard for everyone to stay the night. Apparently, her and Neville were to share one of these tents, Molly wording it, 'I'm progressive enough, Ginny dear, to know two people in a relationship are not to be thought of as prude.' Ginny had gone on to say in her letter that she'd tried to persuade her mother to give Neville and Hermione their own private tents, but Molly would have none of it. 'Besides, there simply aren't enough tents to go around.'

'We can try to sneak you into my old bedroom with me and Harry later,' Ginny had written, 'Once everyone has gone to bed.'

Hermione appreciated the trouble at her expense, and though Neville was sweet, she didn't want to share a tent with him. What if he accidently caught her in her knickers? Oh, the horror! Not to mention the wrath Draco would rain down upon the poor, unassuming Herbology Professor.

She had just finished packing her overnight bag when a gentle knock came to her door, and her head sprung up, anxiousness spreading through her stomach. Praying it was only Neville, she made her way to the door and pried it open. "Draco." Her heart jumped, seeing the pale blonde adorned in onyx dress robes that brought out the silver flecks in his irises. His hair had been slicked back, making him look older, and he was clean shaven (much to Hermione's disappointment. She rather enjoyed a stubble-chinned Draco.) In his hands, which were trembling ever-so-slightly, was a tie.

"I… I can't tie the damned thing correctly," he told her, avoiding her gaze. "I was supposed to be at the Manor an hour ago to help prepare, but-"

Hermione's resolve to keep her distance wavered, and she sighed. "Give me the tie."

Draco's face lit up instantly, and he held it out to her for her to take. She did, and then opened the door wider so that he could step inside. With the door shut, Draco looked much more at ease, and he took a seat on the edge of her bed, tapping his foot as he stared at the green and silver tie in her hand. "Thank you," he told her, "I couldn't think of anyone else to ask without humiliating myself further."

"That, and you wanted an excuse to see me," she pointed out, allowing the corners of her mouth to turn up in a smile. His did the same, and they stared at each other for a time. Hermione cleared her throat and stepped to him. "Sit up straight." Draco did as he was told, eyes now fixated on hers. She was reminded of their first sexual encounter together, on this very bed, when she had compared him, mentally, to a kitten. Innocent. Playful. Ready to pounce or sprint off, depending on how events played out. He looked now as he did then, and her smile widened as she wrapped the silken strap under his collar and began to tie a knot. Draco dared not move, and this close, she could hear his shallow breathing. He was trying very hard to be perfectly still, but his foot kept fidgeting. As she tied, Hermione said, "You look handsome."

"Yeah?" He twisted up an eyebrow, smirking. "You look like you just woke up."

"I might have," she admitted honestly. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Neither did I," he replied.

Hermione tightened the tie and set it straight, flipped his collar down to its proper place, and grinned. "There. All done." She made to move her hands away, but Draco's fingers wrapped around her wrists, bracing her hands on his shoulders. She noticed the diamond cufflinks on his wrists, and her chest tightened.

"Hermione." His smirk dropped, and he grew serious. "There's something I need to tell you."

She was quite sure, whatever it was, could wait. "Not now, Draco. I have to get ready." She pulled away from him and crossed the room to her dresser, digging around until she found her favorite blue skirt and white button up that she wore for outings. "I need to get dressed."

He leaned back on his elbows. "Alright." There was a playfulness to his tone.

"That means you need to leave."

"Why?" He pouted his lower lip with exaggeration. "I haven't seen you in your skivvies in some time."

"There's a reason for that."

"You're cross with me."

"I'm a little more than cross."

With a bit more confidence, he smirked. "Even still… not leaving."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine." She turned her back to him, taking her clothes over to the vanity mirror set up across from the bed and began to undress. She tried to ignore his eyes in the mirror, but still watched closely out of her peripheral vision. Draco didn't move, only watched on as she removed the last of her undergarments and stood before him, stark nude. She moved for her new clothing and watched as he sat up a bit straighter when she slipped into a fresh pair of silk, blue knickers that matched her skirt.

"Those new?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because someone keeps ripping apart all of my other pairs."

She caught his smirk in the reflection. "Oh. Yeah." He chuckled. "I'd say I'm sorry about that, but I'm not."

She rolled her eyes, forcing herself to keep the same stoic expression, though she wanted to smile. "Not surprised. -Where is my damn brush?" She searched high and low for it, and found it, wedged between the wall and the vanity. Sighing, she bent down to pick it up -and heard the bed creak. 'Uh oh.' She jumped up at once, and met Draco's cool reflection in the mirror, standing directly behind her. "Hello."

"Hi." His eyes danced with sexual tension. "Would you like some help?"

"No. I'm good. Thanks." She watched his eyes trail down in the mirror, staring at her reflected breasts. Her arms wrapped around herself, and she spun around. "Excuse you."

"Hmm?"

"I caught you looking."

"I wasn't trying to hide it," he shrugged, moving his hands up to her arms. Slowly, she allowed him to pry them down to her sides as he soaked in her curves. "Merlin, Hermione. Can't we just skip over all the bits where you're mad at me and move right on to the make-up sex?"

"No."

"Come on," he whined. "Please?"

"No means no."

"No means no," he mocked her. "Obviously. But what if I told you I had a gift for you?"

"A gift?" she raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"That's what I said."

"What is it?"

"it's a surprise. You'd have to close your eyes."

"So you can ravish me without permission?"

"What if that was the gift?"

"Is it?"

"No. -That _would_ be a perk, though. But I suppose if you're just too chicken…"

"Oh, for Merlin's…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "Fine, Draco. What's the gift?"

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes. They are."

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"No peeking, now."

"Draco, I'm growing bored. Either get on with it or-" Hermione ceased her talking when Draco's lips pressed down on hers, soft and warm and full of life. At the same time, she felt something cold, like metal, brush against the skin around her collarbone, and she gasped into the kiss. When Draco pulled away and allowed her to open her eyes, he turned her back around to the mirror. Hermione's mouth fell open in awe.

Around her neck, dangling on a gold chain, was a beautiful, obviously expensive, emerald cut ruby pendant the size of her thumbnail. Not too big to be gaudy, but not too small, either. It glimmered from the sunlight in the window, reflecting bits of red light streaks back into her eyes. She touched her fingers to the very real ruby and shook her head. "What…? Why?"

"You deserve so much more than that," he said, voice low and seductive as his breath ghosted her ear, "But, for now, this is how I wanted to tell you."

"Tell me?" Her eyes nearly closed at the warmth of his hands that wrapped around her stomach, pulling her flesh to him, but the red jewel kept her attention. "Tell me what?"

"How much you mean to me. How sorry I am. Let me show you, Hermione." And just like that, one of his hands slipped between her thighs and began to rub against the fabric of her panties, directly over her clit. Hermione inhaled sharply, eyes closing, as her hands braced against the edge of the vanity. She heard Draco chuckle against the side of her neck as he began to trail kisses down to her shoulder. Giving her clit a playful pinch, he leaned his body forward, and therefore hers as well, until she was bent over the vanity. Draco leaned back upright, leaving her still bent forward, and pulled his hands away from her, making her groan. "You look so beautiful like this, you know. Take a look."

Hermione, leaning on her elbows, found the strength to open her eyes and catch herself in the reflection. Ass out, exposed to him but for the pretty silk underwear, she looked like the sexually charged vixen he always described her as, rather than the book-obsessed Healer she was known to be. At this angle, her breasts were pushed together between her arms, giving them a roundness that made them tantalizing, even to her. There was color in her cheeks and ears, and her mouth was parted in an attempt to catch her breath. Her earth-toned hair still held that 'just rolled out of bed' look, giving the impression that she was some wild temptress. And with the image of Draco Malfoy standing directly behind her, cheeks flushed with pink as he forced his hands not to roam over every inch of her body like she knew he desperately wanted to, she had never felt more powerful, or more vulnerable. And vulnerability was a frightening thing, wasn't it? But not with Draco. With him, she felt safe. She could be who she was, really, without any awkward glances or confused stares, the way Ron had. Draco encouraged her sexuality in ways she couldn't even dream of until they were plucked like forbidden fruit off the vine. She didn't need to be ashamed with him; only attentive.

Draco finally caved to his primal desires, running his fingers up and down her wet, covered folds, which were now soaked with arousal. "Professor Granger," he said, his voice teasing, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Hermione bit back a moan and nodded her head, her hair spilling around her shoulders. "Mmhmm…"

"You've missed this, haven't you? My hand between your legs."

If Hermione bit into her lip any harder, she would surely draw blood, so she released her lip and groaned, "Fuck,yes, I have."

"I bet you'd love a few of my fingers inside of that warm, slippery cunt of yours, wouldn't you?"

"God, yes, Draco. Please."

"Listen to that. Begging so proper." He let a finger slip underneath the material and slide against her, spreading her wetness until he lubricated her clit, where he rubbed it with tiny strokes. "Still mad at me?"

She sighed in complacency as he played with her. "Furious."

"Good."

And of all the improper timing in the world there ever was, a knock came from the door. Hermione fought back a frustrated groan as Draco withdrew his hand immediately, catching his reflection in the mirror as he brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them clean.

"I wonder who that could be?" he whispered, lightly running a hand down her back. Her skin, prickling with sensitivity, lit to life under his touch, and she groaned quietly before standing up and gathering up her clothes.

Someone knocked at the door again.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco muttered, and then, louder, "Coming!" He gave Hermione a wink as she ran over to the side of the door, almost behind it, and began to dress as Draco pulled the door open, ready to play a distraction. "Longbottom," he said, fingers tapping along the edge of the door, cueing her to hurry along, "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, seeing as this is Hermione's dorm…" Neville's voice could be heard in the doorway. Hermione busily shifted into her skirt. "While I have you here, do you have the-"

Draco coughed loudly, almost as if he didn't want Neville to finish the sentence. "Er, Longbottom. Why don't you and I step outside for a moment? Hermione's in the loo, getting ready. Shouldn't be but a moment. You know how woman can be." He shoved Neville back out the threshold and peeked behind the door, nodding in approval as Hermione attempted to button her shirt. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he mimicked her before leaving the room with Neville to allow her to finish dressing.

When she was sure she wouldn't be disturbed, she rushed back over to the vanity, feeling the wetness pooling in her panties, and sighed, frustrated. If Neville had just been a little longer with arriving… her eyes caught sight of the ruby pendant still perched around her throat, and she smiled. It, then, dawned on her that the gold and red represented her Gryffindor house, which only made his gift that much more special. It was hard to stay mad at the man when he gifted her with something as beautiful and heartfelt as this.

There was a knock, and she said, "Come in!"

Draco stepped back into the room, smirking at her. "I had Longbottom wait for you in the Great Hall."

"Thank you." She grabbed up her hairbrush and began the process of taming her beastly curls. "What did Neville ask of you, by the way?"

"Oh. Er…" Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing. Work related."

"Work related?" She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Of course. Do you doubt me?"

"You know what? I'm not even sure I really want to know." Her brush got caught in her hair, and, giving up, she set it down and waved her wand, spelling it into a messy bun at the top of her head. "That was rather cruel, you know. Now I'll have to change my underwear again."

"Absolutely not." He shook his head, coming to stand next to her. He wrapped an arm around her side and smirked at her in the mirror. "You keep those wet little knickers right where they are. -I want them to be a reminder of who you _really_ belong to." He gave her a wink. "All set?"

"Almost." She walked over to her bed, retrieved a pair of black ballet flats, and smiled. "Now, I'm all set." She gathered her overnight bag.

"No, you're not."

"Why not?"

"Black shoes with a blue skirt? What are you? Twelve?"

"But I love these shoes."

"They hardly match, do they?"

"And you're going to give me advice on how to dress, now?"

"I'm only trying to save you from yourself -and your terrible sense of fashion."

"Are you sure you're not playing for the other team?"

"You and I both know just how straight I am." He winked again. "Still angry with me?"

"A bit less," she admitted, "But all around… yes."

He shrugged. "I'll take what I can get." He offered his arm out. "Shall we?"

"Yes… I…" She chewed on her bottom lip, fingers wrapped around the ruby. "This is beautiful, Draco. Thank you. I love… it."

He smirk turned into a smile, and she took his arm. He kissed her cheek, opened the door, and said, "I love _it_ too, Hermione." Startled, she forgot how to breathe for a moment, only remembering once they were safely down the staircase. Surely he hadn't meant anything else other than the necklace… no… she read too much into it. Because, if he loved her, he'd come out and say it, wouldn't he?

"Wow!" exclaimed Neville as they entered the empty Great Hall. "Just… wow. Hermione, you look wonderful."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Remember, Longbottom. Hands to yourself. Or I promise you, you'll have a broken nose by the end of the night."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You don't scare me, Malfoy. No matter how many times you threaten me." He patted his pockets, checked for his wand, and then nodded. "Right. Well, Harry and Gin will be waiting for us in Hogsmeade. Shall we go ahead and set out?"

"Yes. I think that's best." Hermione nodded, turning to Draco. "Don't have too much fun rubbing elbows with the obnoxiously wealthy."

"Hey. I happen to be one of those said 'obnoxiously wealthy'," He leered, watching as Liam Killingsworth appeared in the doorway, tailored in expensive green dress robes. "Ah, Killingsworth. Right on schedule, I see." Behind him strolled in Lidia Cornelia, dressed in stunning lavender dress robes. "Cornelia?"

"Oh, yeah." Liam smiled. "Convinced my Mum to let me bring a date."

Two emotions instantly shot through Hermione like an electrical current. One; she was proud of Liam for taking the initiative to show off Lidia at such a prestigious event, and two; she was hurt, because it reminded her that two fourth years could be more open about their relationship that two grown adults.

"So I'm to escort _both_ of you to the charity ball?"

"Yup."

Draco rolled his eyes, sneering, "Fine. It's your funeral." He nervously glanced over at Hermione, and they both shared the same, shame filled expression. He tapped his hand on his leg and sighed. "Hermione…"

"It's fine, Draco. Really," she said, quickly, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "Have fun. Neville and I will be just fine."

Neville nodded, picking up Hermione's bag. "Don't worry, Malfoy. She's in safe hands."

Draco glanced around the room, straightened his shoulders, and pushed through Liam and Lidia, huffy and full of authority. "Come on, lovebirds. Let's not keep the festivities waiting. I'm dying to see your father's expression, Killingworth." He turned his head over his shoulder, blew Hermione a kiss, and disappeared from view. Liam and Lidia shrugged to each other, and left, hand-in-hand to follow their Potion's professor out.

"It's really big of Malfoy, doing what he's doing," Neville said, bringing Hermione out of her depressed stupor. "I mean, I sort of get the impression he doesn't get on with his parents much anymore. What he's doing for St. Mungo's…"

"Because you forced him."

"Yeah," Neville grinned sheepishly, "But we both know Malfoy could have turned me down." He nudged her in the shoulder. "Come on, Mione. Let's get going."

She smiled softly and nodded. "Yes. Lets."

As they stepped towards the front doors to leave for Hogsmeade, Hermione reminded herself that she would need to just make it through the next 24 hours with her sanity intact before she could come back, hash it out with Draco, and fix everything. 24 hours with the Weasleys… what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

 **I'm so pleased to announce that I was offered a _'Meet The Penname'_ day on the facebook page _'Granger Enchanted Survivors 18+'_ on September 16th! I was given a list of interview questions about my work 'How To Train Your Auror', and they will feature my works for an entire day on their page! INCLUDING any fanart related to my stories! I'm so speechless and honored. And so, I'd like to offer:  If you'd like to make any fan art, whether it be photoshop or drawings for HTTYA, Sex Ed, or any of my stories to be featured this day, please PM me! I'd be honored if anyone wanted to feature their art with a theme of my stories. **

**~A.**


	26. A Decision

**You with the sad smile, don't lose your courage**

 **Dance in the high tide and don't be worried**

 **Your soul's in a wild fire, feel it beating**

 **Dreams on a gold wire, won't you believe it?**

 **We're all animals out in the dark**

 **Got a feeling that we're all believing in**

 **Not waiting for daylight to start**

 **We're over the moon, over the midnight moon**

 **"Midnight Moon" by Oh Wonder**

* * *

Neville fidgeted with the hem of his shirt nervously as he and Hermione walked side by side down the path to Hogsmeade, where they were due to meet Harry and Ginny for tea before heading to The Burrow. He could tell, by the look on Malfoy's face earlier, that he'd interrupted something important between the two, and judging by the pretty pendant that hung around Hermione's neck, he could take a guess as to what. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She broke away from her thoughts, touching the necklace absentmindedly. "Yes, Neville?"

"Do you… do you want to head back?" he asked, setting her bag and his knapsack down. "We can go, right now, back to Hogwarts. It won't bother me any. Heck, I bet we could make it to the charity ball in time-"

"-Why on Earth would we want to go there?" she asked him, feigning disinterest. Even though she desperately wanted to. But the thought of embarrassing Draco in front of his family kept her at bay. She had the charity to consider, after all.

"I was invited, you know. To go. Not that I'd want to sit around and make nice with the Malfoys. But it wouldn't be any trouble-"

"Neville." She put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to help. -Plus, I hear they're going to have shrimp the size of your fist-"

"I'm alright." She patted him on the shoulder. "Really."

"You don't seem alright. I'm concerned, Hermione. All you and Malfoy will say is that you're fine, but you're obviously not fine. Or you wouldn't look so sad."

Her shoulders slumped, and she set her forehead against his chest. "I flubbed it all up, you know. It was my fault."

Neville felt the warmth of her body against his as she wrapped her arms around his abdomen and hugged him tight. He was much too nervous to hug her back, being in close proximity to Hermione after Malfoy's evil eye on him earlier, so he patted her on the top of the head instead. "I know, Hermione. But you can't be perfect all the time, can you?"

"Why not?" she laughed, though it was melancholy. "All my life, I've always had the right answers. To everything."

"Except when it comes to your heart," he pointed out, earning a puzzled stare from her. He pulled her away from him enough to stare down into her eyes, and he became serious. "I've known you since we were eleven years old, Hermione. You were my first friend from Hogwarts. And, if I'm being honest, my first friend ever. I didn't have friends, so much as playdates growing up, but… I'm off topic." He dismissed his story at once, changing the tone. "So I've watched you grow up. And while you're great with numbers and sentence structure and magic, you're terrible when it comes to relationships."

"What?" she appeared even more baffled than before. "That's not true."

"Viktor Krum. He really liked you. What did you feel for him?"

"Viktor?" She thought about it. "Not much, really."

"But you still went to the Yule Ball with him."

"Yes. He asked me to go."

"But who did you like, even then?"

"Ronald." His name sounded bitter on her tongue. "And then the next year he was with Lavender…"

"But you got him, eventually. It took you years to realize that you two were better off as friends, but by then, the damage had been done. You two haven't been the same since. You're inexperienced when it comes to relationships, Hermione. You think too logically, and not enough with your heart. It's why you're in this situation with Malfoy now. I know you were just looking out for his job, but Malfoy's a grown man. He can handle himself. You don't need to man-handle him like Harry, or baby him like Ron. He's perfectly capable of being on his own, if the years of solitude haven't proven it already."

She stared evenly at him, taking each and every word of his, analyzing them, and processing them into organized stacks in her brain. He could literally hear her mentally jotting down notes. "But… if Draco gets fired… I might never see him again. His parents will just start setting him up with pureblood witches-"

"But he's already said that he doesn't care if he gets fired, Hermione. He said as much in front of me. And you haven't seen him when he isn't putting on an act for you. He's hurting, just like you are." Neville couldn't believe he was saying this, but, "You're either going to have to come out to everyone, or break up with him. It's as simple as that. It's time for you to decide who is more important in your life. Ron or Malfoy."

"And… what if I can't decide?" she looked to him, desperate for an answer. "I shouldn't have to choose between my friend and my…"

Neville noticed the way boyfriend held so heavy on her tongue, as though it just weren't enough to describe Malfoy, and thought to comment on it, but stifled himself. Best not to push his luck. "Well, tonight," he said, plucking a tiny vial full of purple liquid from his pockets and waving it between them, "I'm your boyfriend of choice. So we can dwell on it later, yeah?"

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the vial.

"Confidence potion."

"Confidence poti- oh, why would you need that?" She reached for it, but Neville pulled his arm away, high up in the air where she couldn't reach. "Neville, stop it! Those are very finicky. If one ingredient gets mixed the wrong way, those can take a disastrous turn. We both know how terrible you are at potions."

"I might consider that an insult if I had an ego to bruise," Neville joshed, pushing an arm against her shoulder to keep her at arm's length as he plucked the stopper off with his teeth. "But, for the record, I didn't brew this one. So it should be safe."

"Why do you need it at all?"

"If I'm going to bold-face lie to all of my friends, I can't do it without a little help." He smiled to her and downed the potion. When he finished, he released her and received a hard slug in the arm. "OUCH!"

"You don't need any alteration potions, Neville Longbottom. I happen to like you just the way you are."

There was a tingle inside Neville's esophagus as the potion traveled down his throat, and it felt as if stars were glowing in his belly. The world shifted, and he suddenly became aware of his height in comparison to her, how nice his cuticles looked for having been buried in dirt for most of the morning, and the sound of his own voice as he replied, "Thanks, 'Mione. I think I like myself a bit, too."

She rolled her eyes, and Neville plucked the bags up with ease. Yeah… he was really strong, too, wasn't he? Just look at those muscles on his forearms…

"Well," Hermione said, gathering his attention away from himself, "As long as you stay you, that's all that really matters to me." She patted his chest, and Neville realized he really liked that. "Come on, you. Harry and Ginny will be waiting."

"Lead on," he smiled, a spring in his step as he followed her down the path, thinking just how wonderful of a 'boyfriend' he was going to make Hermione this evening.

* * *

"Draco! Oh, love, it's been ages!" Narcissa Malfoy greeted her only son as he arrived through the floo with Liam Killingsworth and Lidia Cornelia in tow. Stepping out into the Grand Den, Draco greeted his mother with a kiss to the cheek and a small bow to follow.

"Mother," he said in his best kempt tone, awaiting her small curtsy back before gesturing to the teens behind him. "Killingsworth's son, Liam, and his date, Lidia Cornelia."

Narcissa smiled to the two, eyeing over Lidia with precision. "Cornelia… that's a… _unique_ surname."

"Mother…" Draco warned under his breath, and her eyes snapped over to him expectantly.

"It's muggle. I-I mean… I'm a muggle… well, no! Ha. No. I'm not a muggle. But my parents are muggles." Lidia Cornelia blushed the color of a tomato and bowed her head. "I mean… it's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"It's… _lovely_ to meet you, dear," Narcissa strained, her voice rising an octave. She turned her eyes back to her son. "You were _supposed_ to be here over an hour ago, Draco…"

"Yes, I was… I was saying goodbye to my girlfriend," Draco replied, feigning distraction as his Father approached the doorway, belittling a hobbling house elf with one shoe on. Draco might have had a hand in 'accidentally' freeing a few of his father's house elves after the War, as a rebellious act against his family in the aftermath, but he knew no one could prove it. Lucius still kept a the few who stayed, despite their freedom. His father could be seen snipping orders over his shoulder as he stood in the entryway.

"Girlfriend?" Narcissa gasped, drawing Draco's attention back around. "You have a girlfriend, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Oh, but that's wonderful news!" Narcissa swept gracefully across the den, her dress robes billowing behind her. "Lucius! Did you hear? Draco has a girlfriend!"

Lucius tore his eyes away from the house elf over towards his family, his eyes falling on Draco in soft command. "Do you?" He cast his son an amused smirk. "It is about time, my boy. I was beginning to wonder."

"Who is she, dear? Oh -wait, don't tell us just yet. Let me take a guess. Is it Astoria Greengrass?"

"We've been over this, Cissy," Lucius leered, rolling his eyes. "Astoria has been out of the country for some time now. I highly doubt they've seen each other since that atrocious luncheon two summers past."

"It's not Astoria," Draco assured both of his parents, turning his attention to the teens and off of himself. "Killingsworth, why don't you come with me, and I'll show you how to properly shout orders to hired staff. You too, Cornelia." He nudged his head for them to follow, gave his parents a graceful bow, and added, "We'll talk about it later, yes?"

"Of course, dear." Narcissa nodded, clapping her hands together. "We're just so very excited."

"You mean _you're_ excited, Narcissa." Lucius smirked again. "Will she be joining us at the ball tonight, Draco?"

"No… prior engagements. Busy woman." Draco watched his father's face turn up in a disbelieving scowl, and he ushered the children out of the room, fearing that should he stay, the elder Malfoy might figure him out by some unknown talent of Legilimency.

* * *

Despite Ginny's obvious protests that Molly Weasley should butt her nose out of other people's business (said much more politely, of course), Hermione found the elder Weasley woman grinning ear to ear as she scooped out some green beans onto Neville's plate and said, "It's so nice to see you again, Neville, dear. The last time I saw you, you looked a bit gloomy."

"I was," Neville proclaimed happily, matching Molly's smile with one of his own. He wrapped a long arm around Hermione and kissed her on the cheek. "Hermione, here, had just dumped me because she thought we were better off as friends. Probably because she thought I was too vanilla for her tastes."

"Neville!" Hermione kicked him underneath the table. "That's… no one wants to… highly inappropriate…"

"Speak for yourself, Hermione," said George, leaning across the table. "Go on, Nev. What's she like? Wild card, I reckon."

"George," Molly scolded, cheeks as rosy pink as the strawberries from her garden.

"Another time, then." George winked at Neville and went back to eating his turkey drumstick.

"So," said Author, looking about to his family and friends, trying to make the best of an awkward moment. "Neville. Teaching Herbology now. That must be fulfilling."

"Bit scary at times," said Neville, "But I'm the best damn one they have for the job, so-"

Ginny nudged Hermione with her knee and leaned over to whisper, "What's gotten into your 'boyfriend', Hermione?"

"Confidence potion."

"Ah." Ginny nodded. "That'll do it. Harry took one once before addressing the press the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Is that why his speech went over so smoothly?" Hermione gasped. "Harry Potter…" She looked across the table to her friend, who was laughing at a terrible joke from Neville.

"Neville's seems a bit wonky, though, doesn't it?" Ginny nudged over to the table, who had now started taking bets as to how many cheeseballs Neville could fit into his mouth. "At this point, you would have been better off bringing Malfoy. -Why didn't you?"

"Because I'm an absolute dolt," she sighed, resting her face in her hands after having set her pumpkin juice down. "Ginny, have you ever known me to be anything less than logical?"

"Of course," her friend replied.

"Really? Name one time."

"You fancied my brother."

"Oi, oi." Ron said, walking behind them after just coming back from the loo, "It wasn't all that bad, was it?" He gave a lopsided smile and leaned between the two women. "Mione, come on. Set the record straight for Gin. I wasn't the worst relationship you ever had, was I?"

"Well, considering I only dated you and Viktor Krum, and Krum was quite a gentleman…"

Ginny giggled into her hand, and Ron made a face somewhere between a scowl and a smirk. "Touché. -Hey, Nev. Fancy a game of Quidditch after dinner?"

"Bet you twenty galleons I make a better Keeper than you."

Ron's face twisted up into one of mild amusement. "Neville. Mate. That's not really fair to you. I don't like conning my friends out of so much money- it, really, wouldn't be right."

"Ah, come on, Ron," said Harry, "Let's give Neville a go. And if he loses, we can just take him out for drinks. What'dya say?"

"Alright." Ron nodded. "I say you're on." He thrust out his hand, and the two men exchanged firm handshakes.

"Winner keeps Hermione?" Neville chided, laughing. "Oh, wait. Sorry. You already lost that wager long ago."

Ron's face fell, and his eyes narrowed. "Careful, mate."

"Neville," Hermione scolded, "That was highly inappropriate."

"Ah, come on, Mione. You know I was just joshing. Friendly sport banter. That's all."

Hermione set her face in her hands as her best friend patted her on the shoulder. "S'alright, Herms. I'm sure this evening won't turn into a total disaster," Ginny whispered. "Besides, I'll mop the floor with both of them on a broom. You know that."

She rose her head and smiled to the redhead. "Thanks, Gin."

"Anytime. Ooh, nice necklace, by the way! Is it new?"

"It's from Draco."

"Oh my… that's… is that… so that's a real ruby, then?" Ginny looked anxiously over the necklace, as if she were intrigued to be in the presence of such an expensive piece. "Well, you've got to come clean now!"

"I know!" Hermione sighed, whisper-shouting, "I know I do! I'm simply an awful person, Ginny. I don't deserve him."

"Well, of course you do. You only did what you did to protect him. How can we expect any less of someone who had to keep the two dolt heads alive, year after year? It's in your blood to want to protect the people you love, Hermione."

"Love…" ' _I have a terrible way of showing it.' "_ I have to tell Ron."

"Yes, you do."

"Help me?"

Ginny nodded. "Of course. But first, you might want to let your 'boyfriend' in on it, so he can stop making an ass out of himself."

"Too late for that," Hermione groaned and stabbed her fork into her dinner roll.

* * *

For the most part, the charity banquet/ball moved splendidly through the evening. Healers from St. Mungo's were given awards for their prestigious works, and Draco was left alone to fend for himself (much to his enjoyment.) His mother, having been pruned for years as a Black, knew just how to work the room, complementing the insecure and boasting of her family's accomplishments to the other wealthy families in the room to knock them down a few pegs. He was surprised at how proud she actually sounded of him becoming a Hogwarts professor, stating, "My Draco simply has such a kind heart, wouldn't you agree? He boasts on the children to me constantly. What a lovely man. Such works! What does your son do? Oh? He's a bartender? Oh, that simply wouldn't do for my Draco. He's got so much to offer the world, you see…"

His father, meanwhile, had taken to drinking quietly at his table, smiling and conversing when needed. He left the more complicated works to his wife, instead doing what Malfoys did best; silently watch and give the air of being better than everyone else in the room.

Draco found a quiet corner at the edge of the refreshment stand and watched on as Lidia and Liam danced around the ballroom. They appeared so carefree and innocent, unabashed by the raised eyebrows and quiet whispers at their expense from the pureblood socialites. He tipped his glass of scotch and sipped, praying silently that no one would think to approach him.

Much to his dismay, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Draco Malfoy," said a sly, playful voice, and Draco spun around to meet the pretty green eyes of Astoria Greengrass. She grinned at him, showing off her pearly white teeth, and giggled into her gloved hand. "Oh my goodness. It's been ages, hasn't it?"

"Two years, I've been reminded," he replied, carrying a lull in his tone, though he actually was rather glad to see the witch. "How have you been, Tori?"

"Can't complain," she said, shrugging as a waiter brought around a tray of champagne and offered her a glass. She took it, curtsied, and clinked the glass to Draco's scotch. "I heard you put this all together."

He smirked. "Who told you that?"

"Word gets around. -I never took you for the generous sort."

"It's for a friend," he shrugged, feeling even more guilty for how he'd treated Longbottom yesterday. Even if the man was a sod, he still wasn't as bad as Draco initially thought. Offering to help mend a relationship he didn't approve of? That man might as well be a Saint. "Nice dress, by the way. Where did you purchase it? _Muggle chic_?" He nudged to her white and gold ball gown, which stood out like a sore thumb amongst the crowds of dress robes. The last time he'd seen her, she hadn't been wearing anything at all. "I'm surprised your mother let you out of your cage in something like that."

She slapped him on the arm. "Cheeky." She narrowed her eyes, but her smile still remained. "Still under your parents' thumb, I see?"

"Don't try to pretend you're any different."

"I am."

"Oh, that's right. You've been 'traveling'."

"Do you doubt the rumors?"

"We spent the entire summer in my bedroom, Astoria. You hate traveling anywhere that doesn't require your clothing to mysteriously find its way to the floor."

She rolled her eyes. "You've caught me. I wasn't traveling at all." She sipped on her champagne and waited for him to ask the question.

"So… where have you been, then?"

"So glad you asked." She pointed to a handsome man tailored in white and silver button-up dress robes, no doubt Astoria's doing. "That little gem is my Barnaby."

"Barnaby?" Draco couldn't help but scoff. "That sounds like a muggle name."

"Well, he's more of a squib, really. The Fawley family's secret they tucked away. Until now."

"Fawley." He frowned. "The Fawleys had a squib in the family?" He knew the Fawleys to be a part of the Sacred 28, so it was no wonder he hadn't heard of the 'family disappointment'. "What's your game?"

"My game?"

"Why are you dating him, I mean? Political move of some sort to make the Greengrass family appear in a softer light? Squib relations?"

"I love him, Draco." She frowned. "And that's all there is to it."

Draco looked at his ex-fling, so carefree and shameless by her declaration. "What did your parents say on the matter?"

"Oh, you know the Greengrasses. Completely up in arms. Well, aside from Daphne. She was miffed she didn't get her mitts on him first." Astoria laughed. "But he's kind. And completely traditional, magic aside. It's a shame you haven't found someone yet, Draco. But no one can thaw that frozen thing." She patted his chest, above his heart.

Draco scowled. "Actually, someone has."

Astoria looked impressed. "Really? Who is it?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh my." She waggled her eyebrows. "And you think my Fawley squib is a scandal. -Have you told them yet? Your parents?"

"No." Draco gestured around the ballroom. "Obviously." The guilt he felt for not bringing Hermione weighed heavy in his heart. All of his talk of showing her off, and he couldn't even make a point to do it when it counted. Sure, he had St. Mungo's to consider, but surely he could have found a way to manipulate his family into doing the charity ball anyway? If he were being completely honest with himself, he knew, in the end, he was just being cowardly. A coward who talked a big talk but hadn't been ready to walk the walk. Immaturity, even in his adulthood. Merlin, he needed more scotch...

"You should."

"I plan to." Yes. He'd need to if he could ever look Hermione in the eyes again.

"When?"

He watched as his mother ushered Lucius up to the podium to announce the donation numbers. With a smirk, Draco stood up straighter and decided that if Astoria Greengrass could come out to her family and survive, so could he. And he could do it in a way that would make Hermione realize he didn't need to be protected. "Right now."

Astoria grinned widely and clapped. "That's the spirit. Make our generation proud, yes?"


	27. A Speech

**Very excited about these next couple of chapters. Waymay needs the credit for keeping me in line with my hads, thats, and SONS. (She knows what I mean. XD)**

 **Some things I recommend: Empire by waymay, High on Magic by LightofEvolution, and How To Train Your Auror by myself. Bond is also up for grabs, in case anyone wants some fun kinky smut with some plot. Parts 1-3 are up, and part 4 is soon to follow. How To Train Your Auror 2 will be my main focus after this story is done. XD Hope everyone likes what I have here. I know I do.**

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Boom Clap" by Charli XCX**

 **This was on repeat while writing this chapter. Don't ask me why. I have no clue. But it also just happens to fit.**

* * *

Draco rubbed his sweaty palms on his dress pants, nervousness shrouding his head like a halo held up by a pair of horns. He knew what he was about to do could potentially make or break his relationship with his parents, his inheritance, and his perception as seen by the elitists of the wizard community. After all, his life's dedication had been to being pruned like one of Longbottom's flowers until he was ready to bloom for them. The War, however, put a damper on most of that. His entire reason for being shaped warped exponentially by the Malfoys' involvement with Voldemort, and their very name hung on a delicate thread -the same one that had been severed, once before, by all of Britain's wizarding community as his family was thrown from paper to paper, rumor to rumor. They skidded by the scrape of their teeth to make it back up the ladder to success, and this confession would either be the breaking point to shake them back down to the bottom rung, or it could, potentially, make them viewed in a softer light. Either way, it would make an interesting story for the front page of the Prophet, no doubt.

His eyes trailed over to the reporter's table, where his soon to be weapon of choice against his father's unyielding wrath now sat, dressed in a lime green ensemble that brought out the emerald flecks in her squinty eyes, which hid behind her half-moon spectacles with cat-eyed points at the tips. A quick quotes quill scribbled mercilessly beside her as she sipped from a glass of white wine, eagerly listening to Lucius Malfoy go on about the benefits of the donation, including the profit of research towards the Janus Thickey Ward. Draco insisted his father make a note of it in his speech, not an hour before, hoping Longbottom would see the quote in the Daily and forgive him, on some small level, for the comment on his parents. He wasn't one to apologize, so this was as good as anything Longbottom could receive from Draco as remorse for his actions.

He caught his mother's eyes as she stood next to Lucius at the podium, a forced, proper smile on her face. She shot him a wink when their eyes met before she looked adoringly to her husband, pride written across her features as she took in the sight of a job well done. The room lit to life with claps and whistling, and it took Draco only a moment to realize that his father had given him an introduction to approach the podium, doting on his son's influence on tonight's festivities. His breath caught, and his feet turned to lead. A small hand came and braced his shoulder, and Astoria whispered in his ear, "You can do this, Drake. Just relax."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," he whispered back, feeling a tug at the corner of his lips as they set in a familiar smirk.

"You know I hate to be called Tori. Call it payback. -Go get 'em."

They both laughed a moment, and his feet found the will to cross the room once again. He noticed, as he approached the podium, Rita Skeeter bolting upright in her chair, setting her wine down to concentrate her full efforts on the young Malfoy heir. It was no surprise to Draco -he'd gotten used to being trailed around by the witch for some years now, being careful in his actions not to shame his family as they built their empire back up from ground level. Rita took particular interest in him, he imagined, because unlike his parents, who had served house arrest for two years following the War, he'd gotten off relatively scot-free, thanks to Potter's testimonies at his trials. The reporter tried many-a-time to crumble his name to rubble, only to find a squeaky-clean floor underneath every rock she overturned. Well, he thought, perhaps tonight he might sate her curiosity, while also earning a good checkmark in her notepad.

He stepped up to the podium, glancing his eyes over the array of blue, black, green, and white dress robes. Astoria stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but Draco was thankful for it. It gave him someone to focus on while he, once again, rubbed his clammy hands against his robes and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Father, for the introduction." He looked over to his mother and father, so filled with pride, and realized he was soon about to burst their bubble. _Oh well. The things we do for love_ … "I'd like to thank everyone for attending this evening's charity event. It means the world to me, my family, and those who your generous donations will benefit…" He took a deep breath. "…Including the parents of a good friend of mine, Neville Longbottom."

The press table buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, whispering to one another, no doubt to confirm if anyone knew this juicy bit of gossip before tonight. Indeed, no one would, because Draco didn't _actually_ think of Longbottom as a good friend (more of an annoying counterpart), but for his plan to work, he'd need the press to think so. "As my Mother loves to point out, I am the Potion's Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said cheekily and earned some small laughs from the audience. "And in so doing, I've made some valuable friendships that will, most certainly, last a lifetime. After hearing, in length, about Longbottom's plight with the ongoing medical bills for his parents' treatments in the Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo's, I felt compelled to take action. Too many witches and wizards have been affected by the War and forgotten, or lose hope because there simply isn't enough money to go around. But not today. Today, we stand and make a difference in the shadow of these tragic events."

The audience lit up with applause, to which Draco cast a generous smile, groomed from years of practice. He placed a hand up, and the crowd fell silent once more. "Before approaching my parents on the idea of this event, I discussed, in length, with Longbottom the different ways one could get involved. Volunteering, visiting patients -there are other ways of helping to the cause, and I urge every one of you, tonight, to think about not just what's in your pocketbook, but what you can do to help." This was the bit of sugar needed to feed the press his pièce de résistance. "I, myself, and my lovely counterpart, Hermione Granger, will be volunteering one weekend a month in between our curriculum at Hogwarts to ensure that enough helping hands will be provided to help the cause, and to our dear friend's parents -Alice and Frank Longbottom." He waited, watching his parents out of the corner of his eye carefully, and smiled larger when he heard his mother squeak a sharp intake of breath. "So please! Enjoy the champagne, feel free to get a bit tipsy, and above all else, hold your loved ones close. I know I will."

He barely heard the roar of applause, too busy trying to catch his breath and step back between his parents, placing an arm around each of their shoulders. "Mother. Father." He said, smiling as one of the cameramen approached the stage, Skeeter following quickly behind him. Her quill, this time, was in her hand, and she anxiously traveled up the steps and onto the stage before anyone could object otherwise.

"Wonderful speech, Malfoys!" She twittered, her curls bobbing up and down as they threatened to spill from her makeshift bun. Her curls, Draco thought, could rival Hermione's in volume. "My, what a riveting, thought provoking speech from our youngest, hmm?" She brushed the tip of her quill to Draco's nose, and he raised an eyebrow, fighting back the urge to sneer something dreadful. "So, let's get down to interviews, shall we?"

"I thought maybe we might have a word with our son, first," said Narcissa, graceful in her poise as ever.

Rita, however, was not one to be trifled with and was quick on the draw. "Nonsense. It will only take a moment. -So, tell me, dear Draco, how does it feel, making a difference to your community?"

"Like any other day, really," he said, laying it on thick. "Although, I have to say, as you well may know, I didn't always use to be so tender-hearted."

"Yes, I imagine that comes with age," said Narcissa quickly.

"Or a counterpart?" Rita beamed, readying her quill for the juicy bit she'd come for. "Do tell us, Draco, when you say counterpart, do you mean a work colleague, or…?"

This was the moment Draco had been waiting for, right there, his for the taking. He prepared his silver tongue and steadied himself for any backlash (which, hopefully, wouldn't come about). "Hermione and I have been dating for some time now. We made it official three months back."

"Oh, my." Rita's eyes glowed with excitement, and she glanced to both Lucius and Narcissa for a response. "This is an interesting bit of news, indeed. As you might know, a lot of the wizarding community is under the impression that the Malfoy lineage, being prideful in their example for only dating those amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight, as described in the _Pure-Blood Directory_ by Cantankerus Nott," the witch's words were, most certainly, prepared, "So forgive my frankness when I ask -why break the cycle now?"

Lucius stepped up beside his son, and though he wore a look of disdain as his eyes passed over Draco, he was ready with a response. "Forgive me, Miss Skeeter, but to what cycle do you refer? As a Malfoy, we pride ourselves in making the best, suitable choices for a life-partner. My wife and I, for example, married for love, as did my father and my mother, and their parents before them. That they should be pureblooded or otherwise was not a factor in the matter. And I'd kindly remind you that, while we might set a precedent for upholding traditional values, there are variations of half-bloods in our lineage as well."

"I see." Rita raised both of her eyebrows, quickly making notes. "Interesting." She glanced between father and son. "But no muggleborns, to date, have been a part of the Malfoy family, _have they_?"

Draco opened his mouth, ready to strike back with a snarky comment, but Narcissa beat him to the punch. "We're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we, Miss Skeeter? After all, Draco and Miss Granger are not wed, as of present. Not that we wouldn't welcome her with open arms. As we've said time and time again in interviews with your paper, we Malfoys have thrown away our past in favor of turning over a new leaf. This is, perhaps, why my dear Draco finds Miss Granger so stunning?"

"Yes, what is it about Miss Granger that gets your cauldron brewing?" Rita asked excitedly to Draco.

"Cauldron… brewing?" Draco snorted a laugh. "Excuse me, Miss Skeeter, but I'm not one to kiss and tell.- But if you must have something for your paper, she's intelligent, witty, hardworking, and keeps me in line from time to time. Any man would be lucky to have her, and I just so happen to be that man." He said his words with purpose, aiming them not at Rita, but at his parents instead. He hoped they got the message.

"And being on opposite sides of the war -that hasn't affected your relationship in any way?"

"If anything, it's brought us closer together," he answered honestly.

"Where is our dear Miss Granger tonight? I noticed she was not in attendance this evening."

"Family matters to attend to, I'm afraid," Draco smirked, knowing that it wasn't a lie, per say. Just an omission of the truth. "Family is paramount to _both_ of us." He glanced back at his mother and father. "And we're ever so glad to have the support of both of our families. It makes our relationship a solid foundation of which to build from."

Rita looked expectantly to Lucius and Narcissa, who exchanged silent words through glances before both turning their heads towards the reporter and smiling.

"But of course, Draco has our blessing," Lucius said through a clenched jaw, "Miss Granger is an excellent example of… poise… and grace."

'Poise and grace?' Draco winced internally. 'He knows nothing about her, does he?'

"We're just grateful that our son has found someone he can invest his heart into," Narcissa said sweetly, buttering it up to the point of making Draco (and Lucius, by the looks of it) want to vomit. Rita, satisfied, jotted down the last of her notes and grinned.

"Thank you for your time, Malfoy family. I have a feeling this banquet will, undoubtedly, make the front page."

"As well as the awareness for volunteer work needed," Draco suggested slyly, to which Rita nodded and flitted away. Her photographer, a balding man with a thick mustache who wore dress robes two sizes too big, stepped forward, holding up his camera.

"One for the papers, yeah?"

"Of course," Narcissa said, and all three Malfoys grinned properly. With the last of the interview out of the way, Draco turned to face both of his parents, who still tried to feign a look of happiness on their faces, though their eyes bore down on him with the heat of a thousand suns.

"Draco," Lucius started, but his son cut him off.

"-Father, look. I know that wasn't the noblest way to tell you. But I needed to come clean, and I needed to do it tonight."

"Come clean?" Narcissa scoffed, crossing her arms delicately. "Is that what you call mucking up an interview with your personal drivel?"

Draco sighed. "Either way, you know now." He looked to them, expectant. When neither one said a word but merely shifted into an air of discord, he added, "I'm in love with her."

His mother was the first to break her hard shell, eyebrows turning up into ones of disbelief, but also nodding in understanding at the same time. "Love, Draco? You're…. you're in love?"

He nodded softly, his eyes resting on her. "I haven't told her yet. That's next on the to-do list."

"There's a list?" Lucius sneered.

Draco smirked. "You've no idea."

A wisp of white and gold approached them from the side, and Astoria gave a graceful curtsy before kissing Draco on the cheek and saying, "Lovely speech. The both of you." She turned to Lucius. "I have to say, Mister Malfoy, it is quite liberating to see you so open to the possibilities of muggleborns. Our families have all come a long way since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I'd like to donate twenty thousand galleons to the cause."

Lucius's eyebrows turned up in approval. "That's a very generous donation, Miss Greengrass. St. Mungo's thanks you."

"Anything to help the less fortunate." She batted her eyelashes. "I think your family is a shining example to all purebloods and future generations. I'd like my donation to go directly to the Janus Thickey Ward if it pleases you. Any friend of Draco's is a friend of mine. -Cissy, you simply must come around for tea sometime shortly. And bring Miss Granger! I'm so fascinated to hear all about her muggleborn culture." Astoria winked at Draco and sauntered off to join Barnaby Fawley and her parents, who were lost in conversation.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Well… that was… an interesting conversation, to put it lightly." He turned his eyes to Draco, staring at him for a few moments before, finally, breaking his silence. "I expect we will have a chat, at length, on this subject later."

"Of course," Draco nodded, "So long as you don't try to talk me out of it." Noticing the taken-aback gaze of his father, he searched for words. "I think it's time we drop the pretenses. I love her. If you decide to disown me, so be it."

"Disown you?" Lucius smirked. "Tempting, but I fear I could never do it." He rested a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'm afraid my love for you outweighs my prejudices. It always has." He gave an irritated sigh, pressing on. "If this is what you feel you must do -dating this muggleborn… I cannot stop you. Do I approve of this? Absolutely not. -Am I proud of you for standing up for what you believe in? Absolutely." He squeezed Draco's shoulder and released him. "Besides, I'm quite convinced this is just a phase. You'll come to your senses, eventually."

"Not likely…" Draco muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said… thank you kindly." Draco turned his eyes to his mother, who let a tear slip down her cheek. "Mother, are you-?"

Narcissa threw her arms around her son and gripped in him in a vice-like hug. "You're such a foolish boy," she whispered against his cheek. "But a fool in love." Her grip tightened. "Do you think, perhaps, we could forge her lineage?"

"Okay!" Draco pulled out of his mother's grasp and shook his head. "I think someone's had a bit too much wine for the evening. -And no, we are not forging any papers. Mother, you're going to have to get over this one."

She swiped at a tear with her fingers and rolled her eyes.

"Now, if you'll both excuse me," Draco bowed to both of them, "I have another thing to check off my list." He backed away slowly from his mother's tear-filled gaze and his father's hex-throwing expression and trotted off of the stage. On his way out, he ran into Lidia and Liam at the doorway, who both smiled and clapped at his approach.

"That was bloody fantastic, Professor!" Exclaimed Liam. "Way to stick it to the man!"

"The man?"

"Sorry," Lidia chimed in, "It's a muggle expression. Been teaching Liam a few of them."

"Right." Draco nodded. "Well… I believe it's I who should be thanking the both of you. -You took my advice to heart."

"You kidding? You're one of the coolest teachers we've ever had." Liam patted Draco on the arm, noticed the sharp glare from his Professor, and dropped his hand immediately. "Seriously, though. Cool."

"Cooler than Professor Granger?" Draco smirked, hopeful.

Lidia burst out into laughter. "Ohohohoh… noooooooo. Sorry, Professor Malfoy. She's still way cooler than you'll ever be."


	28. A Potion Gone Wrong

**Climactic chapter alert! You're going to feel a rollercoaster of emotions -it's alright. I promise it will all come out alright. Trust me. Ok? Ok.**

 **Waymay had to put up with me bugging her for two days to perfect this chapter. Please, thank her for all of her hard work, and great suggestions. Without her, I'd be a puddle on the floor, still trying to figure out how best to go about this. XD THANK YOU WAYMAY.**

 **To quote Ron Weasley: "You're gonna suffer... but you're going to be happy about it."**

 **Sex Ed: Chapter 28: A Potion Gone Wrong**

* * *

 **"Settle For Me" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend**

* * *

The time had come, in Hermione's eyes, to finally see the light. It happened somewhere between Fleur blowing out her birthday candles and Neville bragging about his 'astonishingly robust metabolism and stamina' when she realized: if she had to choose between Ron or Draco, the answer was simple.

It would be Draco.

Always Draco.

Not Ron, who nearly caused a cock-fight on Valentine's Day when he, himself, had been out with someone. Not Ron, who had shattered her heart into a thousand (what she thought was at the time) irreparable pieces. Not Ron, who couldn't last in bed more than ten minutes. Or cook eggs without burning them. Or accept the fact that she could move on to other men without turning red as an apple.

It was Draco, who handled Ron's angry words and challenge to fight with casual quips and confidence. Draco, who accepted her date with Neville and challenged it with one of his own. Draco, who somehow managed to find every shard Ron left on the floor and glued her heart back together time and time again, even when he, himself, dropped a few of them in the process. Draco, who encouraged the sexual goddess out of her, challenged her wit with his cunning, created an entire charity event just to appease her friend so that she could continue with some elaborate hoax for Ron's sake. Merlin, she was such a dim-witted witch! How could she let it get this far?

She needed to tell Ron. She had to come clean to everyone. If she didn't, she was sure she would burst.

"No, really, Molly," Neville was saying as the older witch cut him a slice, "It's amazing what sort of herbs can give your sexual drive a boost. Cinnamon, Damiana, Ginko, Ginseng, Maca…" he listed them off, unaware that he made nearly every Weasley in attendance blush, aside from George and Fleur. George took out a notepad to scribble on, and Fleur leaned across the table with interest, nodding at each suggestion. "….Oatstraw, Tribulus Terrestris-"

"The what now?" George threw up a hand. "Spell that for me."

"George," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"This could be good for the joke shop," replied George with a gleeful grin.

"Oh, sure, George." Neville nodded in agreement. "I've got loads of others. Hermione, in particular, enjoys a bit of vanilla extract…"

"Gin," Hermione whispered as Molly cut into Fleur's three tier birthday cake, "Outside. Now."

Ginny set down her fork, looked longingly over to the cake, and yet still nodded and politely excused herself and Hermione. She nearly made it out of the dining room before she promptly walked back to the table and grabbed up her plate of cake. They walked through the quaint living room of the Burrow and out the front door, where Hermione threw herself down onto the front steps and wrung her hands together.

"I've been so ridiculous," she confessed, her shoulders easing as Ginny sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders as she cradled her plate in her lap. "I love him, Ginny. I love Draco. What am I doing?"

"You're being Hermione," Ginny said, squeezing tightly. "I knew you'd catch up to your heart eventually."

"I've never needed to catch up to anything before," Hermione sighed, batting away a few tear drops at the edge of her lashes.

"I imagine having your nose in a book most of your life would do that to you," Ginny quipped, giggling at her friend's predispositioned scowl. "So you want to tell my brother now?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, laying her cheek on Ginny's shoulder. "I don't deserve this necklace, Gin. Draco gave it to me, apologizing. He has nothing to apologize for."

"Are you kidding me? All of those years of torment and near-bloodshed? No. You take that necklace, Hermione Jean Granger. You take it, and you cherish it." The redhead patted her friend on the head, picked up her fork, and took a big bite of cake. "The only question left to answer is how you want to go about it."

"Go about what?" someone asked from behind, and Neville emerged from the front door, holding a plate of cake. He shouldered the door all the way open, shoved himself through, and let the screen slam behind him. "Hermione, have you been crying?"

"She wants to come clean," Ginny said discretely, motioning for Neville to shut the larger, thick door behind the screen one. He handed her the cake, did as requested, and turned back to the women.

"I sliced a piece for you," he said to Hermione, "I've already had two slices myself."

"Already?" Ginny gasped, staring down at the plates in her hands.

"When it comes to eating, I'm the king," Neville grinned. "Actually, I'm great at a lot of things. Herbology, sweater selection, gardening, clitoral stimulation-"

"Oh wow." Ginny cut him off. "That confidence potion has gone to your noggin. Neville, no offense, but please stop. I don't need to imagine-"

"Imagine? Gin, you and I both know you didn't complain at the Yule Ball when we-"

Ginny jumped up from the steps, nearly knocking the cake plates out of her hands as she screamed, "NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM IF YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD I WILL HEX YOUR BUM INTO OBLIVION!"

Hermione, eyes wide, glanced between her two friends as shock skittered over her skin. "You two? At the Yule Ball?" She gasped. "Ginerva Weasley!"

"It wasn't like that-" Ginny cut her off, brandishing her cake like a weapon. "-I had spilled some pumpkin juice on my dress later in the evening, and Neville tried to clean it up. It was strictly over the clothing, and completely by accident!"

"Which you confessed to me later that you enjoyed," Neville said, rubbing the back of his head leisurely.

"NEVILLE. SHUT UP."

Hermione burst into laughter, forgetting her stresses for but a moment. "Oh my goodness. Oh. My. _Goodness_."

"Hermione, I'm very well versed in a bat-bogey hex that I will gladly bestow on you should you say a word to anyone-"

"Not a word." Hermione brought her finger up to her lips. "I promise."

Ginny sighed, glaring at Neville, and shoved both plates of cake back into his hands. "I need a moment to calm down."

"Get all riled up on my account?" Neville raised an eyebrow, and Ginny, very nearly, slapped him across the face. Hermione sat down the cake, got to her feet, and caught her hand as it reared back and stopped the witch from making a poor decision.

"Confidence potion, remember?"

Ginny glared, red in the ears, and sighed. "Fine. -Neville, you're an arse. I just want to make that perfectly clear."

"But a sexy arse, yes?"

"Go," Hermione encouraged. "I'll handle him. His potion was, apparently, botched."

"Obviously." Ginny shoved shoulders against Neville as she retreated inside the house, adding, "Come find me when you straighten out this cod."

"Will do!" Hermione replied cheerily, waiting until the door shut behind Ginny before she turned her eyes to Neville and sat her hands on her hips. "Neville, you were completely out of line. We need to get you straightened out."

"Believe me, Hermione. I'm as _straight_ as they _come_." He flashed her a devilish wink.

"Now you're beginning to sound like Draco," she muttered.

"Ha. That prat couldn't hold a candle to me." Neville crossed his arms.

Hermione bit down on her tongue to keep from shouting at him, opting instead to say, "Look, Neville. I appreciate all that you've done tonight-"

"-I have been the _highlight_ of the evening, haven't I? Ron's completely out of his element around me. I think he's just jealous because he knows he's lost you, and he-"

 _"But-"_ she interjected, "I'm going to tell Ron about Draco. I'm going to tell everyone. And as soon as I'm done with that, we're going back to Hogwarts, and you-" she pressed a finger to his chest, "are going to sleep off this disastrous potion." She made to push past him, but Neville caught her around the arms and brought her back to stand in front of him.

"Disastrous? I feel fantastic, Hermione. Just brilliant. I never knew there was so much of me to love."

She rolled her eyes. "That's great, Neville. We've all been telling you that for years. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Hold on a tick, Herms." Neville squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "You might want to think it through before you go spilling the beans to everyone."

"What?" Hermione was completely baffled at Neville's statement. Hadn't he been the one, not hours before, to tell her to make a decision about coming clean? Even encouraged her to do so? This must be the confidence potion, warping his line of vision. "No. Nev. I'm going to do it. I have to. I love-"

" _Love_?" Neville sneered the word back at her, narrowing his eyes. "You don't love the man, Hermione. He's selfish. He's an arrogant twat, and you could do better than him."

She swatted him on the arm. "Watch it. We might be friends, but I'm not afraid to hex you, Neville Longbottom."

The front door opened again, revealing Ron, a drink in one hand and some foreign cigar in the other. Following him were Harry and George. "Hey, Mione." Ron looked between Neville and his ex. "Everything alright?"

Hermione bit back her anger, not wanting to instigate things any farther, and said with a sweet smile, "Of course, Ron. Everything's great. Neville and I were just having a chat."

"Looks like a tense one," Harry noted.

"Sexually tense," George teased. Both Hermione and Ron shot him deathly glares, and he stared into his cup, adding in a whisper, "Just saying what everyone else was thinking."

"Grow up, George," Ron and Hermione said together.

"Nope," he shook his head, "Never will, thank you very much."

"While I have you all here," Hermione said, thinking that the situation was less than ideal for a confession, but not wanting to pretend Neville was her boyfriend a moment longer, "There's something that I should tell all of you. -Especially you, Ron." She met his big, blue eyes and softened her face. "I've… I've been putting this off for some time, now, because I was afraid of how you'd react."

Ron blinked at her, a halo of pink bundling over the bridge of his nose. "Mione, you can tell me anything. You know that. You're still my closest friend, remember?" He tugged the side of his mouth upwards in a lopsided smile.

" _One_ of your closest friends," Harry interjected, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Harry- could you go get Gin? I want her here for this," said Hermione, and Harry nodded with a curious face, retreating into the house as requested.

"Is everything alright?" Ron asked, looking between Hermione and Neville. "You're not…" he blanched, " _pregnant_ or anything, are you?"

Hermione's mouth gaped in disbelief as Neville's eyebrows threw upwards, nearly touching his hairline.

"NO!" They both shouted at once.

"Oh." Ron let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's good then."

Neville managed a smile, however, adding, "Though I could see why you might come to that conclusion." He ribbed Ron in the sides. "She just can't get enough of me, you know. Especially considering how exceptional our lovemaking can get."

What was he doing!? Hermione shot eyes like daggers at Neville as Ron turned the color of a plum. "Neville. That's not something you share with the class."

"Oh, are we doing _roleplay_ , now?" Neville winked. "Hermione loves it, you know. She also likes a bit of photography as well. You should have seen some of these pictures done of her, all tantalizing and biting her lip-"

 _'Oh, dear Lord! How did Neville_ know _about those?'_

Abort mission. Get Neville away from Ron before he exploded: new assignment. "NEVILLE. TENTS. NOW." Hermione grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and began to drag him across the lawn. "We'll only be a moment, Ron! Stay right there!" She jerked the Herbology professor all the way around the house, to the mini-tent-city set up in the backyard, and shoved him up against the side one of the tents, drawing her wand. "Neville Longbottom, I swear to Circe I will hex you right here and now!" She pointed the wand at the tip of his nose.

"Geez, Hermione! Settle down!" He put his hands up in the air, wearing a face of confusion. "I was just putting on for everyone!"

"Talking about our fake sexual trysts as if they were on display for everyone to see?"

"What?" he asked, confused. "But that's why I'm here, isn't it? As your boyfriend-"

" _Fake_ boyfriend," she reminded him, pressing a finger to his chest, "And for a fake one, you've done a lousy job."

"S'cuse me?" His voice shifted into one of irritation. " _You're_ the one who asked me to do this for you tonight, Hermione. Remember? And hey! I get it! You don't want Ron to know about Malfoy, okay. I'll gladly play along. I'm just trying to act the way Malfoy would -you seem to like him so much-"

"Draco would never say such things or make an absolute ass out of himself."

"Wouldn't he?" Neville rolled his eyes. "I grew up with the man, too. I know how obnoxious, how arrogant, how perpetually self-centered he can be-"

"-You're no better than him if you act this way."

"Of course, I am. I'm just better than Malfoy. So he's got money? So what! Is that why you like him so much, Hermione? Is that why you chose him over me?"

"What?" She asked, utterly befuddled. "What are you going on about?"

Neville pushed the tip of her wand out of his face and stared at her, pensive. His pupils were blown to the nines, a side effect of the high from his confidence potion. He squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw, and carried an absolute air of authority about him that Hermione had never seen from him, aside from the Battle of Hogwarts. "I just want to know why -why _him_? It's not like I'm not an excellent choice, Hermione. Need I remind you I was an _Auror_ before I became a professor at Hogwarts. I'm an upstanding citizen. I floss. I might not have Malfoy's sophisticated upbringing or conventionally good looks, but I grew into my ears. Don't you see he doesn't deserve you? He's not worthy of you like I am."

"Worthy?" She squinted her face up at the word. "Alright, Neville. I think you need to have a lie-down."

"Answer the question, Hermione."

"I refuse to do this with you while you're in this state."

"What state? Clear headed?"

"Pig-headed, more like! Can't you see what this potion has done to you? It's turned you into an outright jerk!"

"I'm not a jerk! I'm looking out for you!"

"I don't need to be looked after, Neville! I'm a grown woman! I make my own decisions, and I'm perfectly capable of choosing who I want to date."

"And yet you hide your relationship with Malfoy every chance you get," he pointed out, slowly putting his hand over her wand hand and settling it down to her side. "But you're alright with telling Ron you're dating me. Because, deep down, you know I'm a better fit."

"Neville. Stop it. This is the potion talking, not you."

"Maybe," Neville said, tearing his eyes away for a moment as if to stop himself from saying what came next, but the potion kicked back into gear, and his eyes glazed over in arrogance and egotism. "But without it, I wouldn't be able to tell you how I feel about you, Hermione. I don't know why, but I can't get you out of my head. Every single time I see you two together, it eats at me. And it's not because I don't think you two aren't a good pair -because, frankly, you are. But you never gave me a chance! You took me up on a date and then dumped me the same night? How do you think I took that? With a smile?"

"No." She shook her head, saddened. "Of course not. But I didn't want to lead you on-"

"-Why him, Hermione? Why him? Over Ron? Or _me_? I would never hurt you, or make you cry day after day, the way Malfoy has. He's such an _arse_! You think he's changed, Hermione? Do you? Because, let me tell you, he hasn't. Not by a long shot. -Do you know what he said to me yesterday when I attempted to befriend him? He reminded me that my parents were in the _loony bin_."

Hermione scowled, disbelieving. "Draco… Draco wouldn't…"

"Oh, yes. He would. He _did_. Why would you want to stay with someone who talks to your friends that way? Or claims to care about you but can't even build up the bloody courage to tell his parents about you? Especially when you have a decent, kind bloke standing right in front of you!"

"Oh, Neville-" she faltered a moment, taken aback by his bluntness.

"I _thought_ I was over it. I kept telling myself it wasn't a big deal that you moved on. But you never gave me a _chance_. And I thought -hey. That's fine. She just doesn't want to ruin our friendship. But then I saw those photos…" He bit his lower lip, eyes trailing down to her mouth. "I didn't mean to. I was just patrolling the Slytherin halls, and then Malfoy's door was open, and… Merlin, Hermione. You looked so beautiful in those, you know?"

"Those were _private_."

"Yeah? For Malfoy, right?" He scoffed. "As if Malfoy could actually appreciate you the way I do."

"Neville. Stop."

She watched, almost in slow motion, as Neville brought his face closer to hers, nose to nose. "I could make it good for you. Better than Malfoy. You like to roleplay? We could play. You could be the potted plant, and I'll water you, and prune you and-"

She shook her head, observing the paleness in his face, the quivering in his legs, the rasp in his voice. Something about that potion had taken a dangerous turn. Slowly, she backed away, slipping her hand out of his, wand still gripped tight. "Neville, we need to get you to St. Mungo's. You're not yourself."

"I feel fine, Hermione. You're just not listening to me." He stepped forward, and Hermione stepped back until her shoulder blades hit the wall of the house. Neville's shaky arms reached out and caged around her, boxing her in on both sides of her shoulders. "I can be like him. Better than him. Better than anyone." He leaned forward, attempting a kiss, but Hermione turned her face just in time so that his lips touched her cheek.

"I don't want to hurt you, Neville," she whispered, pointing her wand at his stomach. "But I will, if necessary. Now, get _off_ of me."

* * *

Ron stared in the direction that Hermione and Neville had gone, feeling conflicted. The tents were all the way around back, so there wasn't a way to see them (thank Merlin). He didn't want to imagine what they could be doing right about now. Especially since Neville seemed revved up. All that talk about aphrodisiacs… not to mention the way Neville stared at Hermione all evening… it made his skin crawl. Of course, that could be because he was a jealous ex-boyfriend, but it still didn't sit right with him. Something about Neville was way off, and it made him concerned. He was just about to step off the porch to check on them when Molly Weasley popped her head out the front door, startling him.

"Everything alright, Ron?" she asked.

Ron turned his blue eyes up to his mum, shrugging. "I dunno… Neville seemed a bit off tonight, didn't he?"

"A tad forward, yes," Molly nodded her head, "But maybe he was nervous."

"Nervous?"

"Well, you and Hermione have a past, dear. Perhaps Neville thought he was laying claim to what's his? I remember Arthur doing relatively the same thing back at a family dinner we attended our seventh year. He was so nervous about meeting my parents, he spilled pumpkin juice all over my evening robes, confessed to my father that he was a bum man, and then proceeded to throw up all over my mother's kitchen spread."

"Blimey…" Ron scrunched his face up at the image. He didn't much care for vomit. Not since he puked up slugs at the expense of a wonky wand and Malfoy.

"I met Angelina's ex once and punched him square in the nose," George piped up, "I can't even explain it. Just socked him one."

"The point is, Ron," said Molly, "We all act a bit strange when we're nervous. Maybe this display is just Neville's way of coping with being around you?"

"Sure…" Ron nodded, but he wasn't convinced. Remembering he wanted to check up on the duo, he made his way off the front porch when a distinct crack rang through the air, out at the perimeter of the lawn. Instinctively, he reached for his wand. You could take the Auror out of the field, but you could never remove the Auror completely. Just then, Harry and Ginny emerged from the front door, Harry with his wand pulled as well.

"You hear that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "Check it out?"

"Let's go."

The two set off at once across the lawn, followed quickly by Ginny.

"Gin, stay back."

"No way. I'm not missing out on a chance to see two Aurors in action!"

"It isn't a game, Gin," said Harry, but he did not dare attempt to reel his wife back.

As they approached, a shadowy figure stepped out of the field. "Oi!" Ron shouted, "Show yourself!"

He heard the distinct whisper of a _'lumos'_ spell and the tip of the stranger's wand lit to life. Harry's eyes focused before Ron's, and he heard his friend exclaim, " _Malfoy_?"

* * *

Draco stared into the eyes of his two childhood rivals, palm sweaty from anxiousness as he clutched his wand and extended it out to brighten the way as he stepped forward, into the light. Potter lowered his wand slightly, but Weasley wasn't convinced, narrowing his eyes and sneering, "What the bloody Hell are _you_ doing here?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco 'nox'd his wand, stowed it away, and placed both arms down at his sides, proving he meant no harm. "Is that the way you greet all your guests, Weasley? You really _should_ work on your manners."

"You're not a guest. You're a trespasser."

"Why are you here?" Potter asked. "This is a private event."

"Don't you have some charity event tonight to feed that ridiculously big ego of yours?" Weasley chided, and Draco was half-tempted to bring out his wand again.

He stifled the urge, replying, "I'd like to speak to Hermione." Both men stared blankly at him, and, once again, Draco rolled his eyes. "Hermione Granger. About ye high," he brought his hand up to his chest, "Unkempt hair. Brown eyes. Smells like parchment and ink most of the time? Ring a bell?"

"I'll give you a bell to ring," muttered Weasley.

To his surprise, a third member of the greeting party pushed her way between the two, and said, "Stay your wands, gentlemen." Her blue eyes roamed over Draco's attire. "I think you might be overdressed for the occasion, but she won't mind." She didn't need to say more than that for the Slytherin to catch her meaning. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to," Draco said, nodding firmly.

"Alright." Ginny Weasley motioned towards the house. "She's around back."

" _What_?" Her elder brother's voice cracked, glaring at his best friend. "No way! He's not stepping foot on my property!"

"It's your Mum's house, Ron," Potter stated, following his wife's direction and lowering his wand to his side.

"And frankly, it might not be your business," Ginny chimed in.

"Business?" He looked between Ginny and Draco and then shot a puzzling glare to his friend. "Harry, come on!" When Potter didn't move or say much of anything actually (merely wearing a look of skepticism), Weasley turned his attention back to Draco. "No. She's busy right now -with her _boyfriend_."

Draco couldn't help but snigger at that. "Oh? Is that so?" This would be a truth bomb he couldn't help but enjoy immensely. "Tell me, Weasley, how can that be when I'm standing right here?" He didn't wait for the bent-spoke cogs to turn in Weasley's thick head, instead turning to Ginny and saying, very cordially, "So… around back, then?"

* * *

Ron's face blared with heat as he started to follow Malfoy, but Ginny caught him by the arm and stopped him. "No, Ron. You need to give them a moment."

"Why should I? What aren't you telling me, Gin?"

"Are you that thick you can't figure it out?" Ginny sighed, looking to Harry for support. "Well, if he can't figure it out, I'm sure as Hell not telling him."

* * *

"Neville! GET OFF," Hermione demanded, not wanting to hurt her friend but being pushed to the edge of her patience as Neville attempted to kiss her neck with sloppy precision.

Apparently, all Neville heard was 'get off', and in the wrong meaning, because he said, "I can get you off, Hermione. Here. I'll be a honey bee, and you can be the beautiful rosebud that I'll pollinate. See? I'm wonderful at intimate talk as well."

"You have five seconds to get off of me before I hurt you."

"Not creative enough?" Neville whispered in her ear.

" _Too_ creative," sneered a cool, definitive voice as a hand came out and grabbed Neville by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him off of Hermione.

"Draco?" Hermione gasped. She watched, partially horrified and partially stunned as Draco's fist came in in connection with Neville's jaw, sending the brunette toppling over sideways to the ground and out cold. When Draco pulled out his wand, ready to curse the dazed professor, she stepped in. "Draco, stop! It's a botched potion! He's not in his right mind!"

"Botched…" His eyebrows furrowed together, and he turned to her -really seeing her for the first time tonight between his rage. His eyes softened the moment they connected with hers, and he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted, "Really. You're overreacting. We should get Neville to an infirmary. He's-"

"An infirmary? Are you _taking the piss_? The man just had his mitts all over you! He's lucky I don't _avada_ his sorry arse."

"Ok. Listen." Hermione stepped forward, resting her hand on his own -the one that held his wand. "I had it under control, I promise you. Neville's under the effects of a confidence potion, but he must have brewed it himself, because he wasn't thinking clearly."

"Confidence potion," Draco repeated, looking down to Neville. "Confidence…" He stepped back, withdrawing his wand. "Shit."

"What the _Hell_ do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley emerged from the side of the house, Harry and Ginny on his coattails. His face was beet red, but, thanks to Ginny, he was rendered wandless. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," she said at once, "I had it handled."

"Handled?" He shouted. "That hardly looked handled to me!"

"Hey! Don't you shout at her!" Draco yelled as Ron approached the scene, looking between Draco, Hermione, and then down to Neville.

"Blimey -What'd you do to him!?"

"Would everyone just calm down?" Hermione said, stepping between Ron and Draco.

"Calm down!? One moment, Malfoy shows up, demanding to see you, and the next Neville is on the ground!"

"I'm sure Malfoy had a reason, Ron," Harry tried to reason, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Settle down. You're not helping any."

"Why would you do that? What's going on? Someone better bloody explain!"

Hermione sighed. "Neville's not my boyfriend, alright?"

Ron's face fell into one of confusion, and then understanding, and then concern. "What?"

"He's… he's not my boyfriend. Draco is." She reached over, taking Draco's hand in hers. "Neville took a confidence potion to lie to you all tonight, because I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. -That same confidence potion turned Neville into a hyper-sexual arsehole. Draco was simply coming to my defense."

"So… Malfoy's… you two are…?" Ron digested her words, his balled fists uncurling as he glanced back between Harry and Ginny. "Did you know?"

" _I_ did." Ginny nodded. "It's my fault she didn't come clean to you, Ron. I told her to watch out for your temper." The redhead looked to Hermione, pained. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. If I had known this would all end up this way, I would have never given you that advice to begin with."

"No." Hermione shook her head. "Don't blame yourself. I should have…" She turned her eyes to Draco, who seemed focused on Neville's unconscious form on the ground.

"No," he said, clearing his throat, "This… this is my fault." He glanced around the group before shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I must have put too much essence of dittany in when I…"

"Hold on a moment." Hermione frowned. " _You_ brewed the potion?" Completely lost, she pulled her hand out of his and stared, bewildered, at him. "Why would you…? What would possess you to…?"

Draco's hands shook as he stowed his wand away, his face growing colder by the moment.

"You did this to Neville?" Ron gestured towards the unconscious friend. "I knew you were a rotten git, but this takes the cake."

"It was an _accident_ ," Draco insisted. "I wasn't in my right mind when he came in demanding it. I said some awful things about his parents, and my head wasn't screwed on straight…"

"Has it ever been?" Ron sneered.

"Hey! If you weren't such a pig-headed asshat, Hermione wouldn't have felt the need to hide our relationship from you!" Draco stepped forward, sizing Ron up.

"Stop it. Both of you." Hermione said, snapping them both out of their cock-strut. "Let's just get Neville in a tent before someone sees."

"We've got it," said Harry, nudging Ron in the arm and motioning down to Neville. "Come on, mate. Let's get Neville in a tent and give these two some privacy."

Ron shot dagger eyes at Draco, but agreed that getting away from the situation was probably best until he could calm down. Ginny, still carrying Ron's wand, levitated Neville, and the three of them headed round to a nearby tent. When they were out of earshot, Hermione sighed, crossing her arms. "You didn't need to hit him. I had it under control."

"Control?" Draco scoffed, eyes staring at the ground. "Is that what you call it when you're shoved up against a house against your will?"

"I was completely safe- Neville wouldn't have-"

"Neville wasn't _Neville_ , Hermione. Quit defending the dolt!"

"Well, someone has to! Especially since he was under the influence of some intensely inaccurate potion. How could you give him it?"

"You think I would have given him it if I knew it was wonky? You think I would have put you in harm's way had I known?" He ran a hand through his blonde tresses, ruining the style and allowing a few strands to fall over his face.

Of course she didn't, but admitting that out loud -well, Hermione couldn't bring herself to do it. Her nerves were shot, her head felt like lead, and all she wanted to do was have a lie-down and cry herself silly for what a disastrous evening this turned out to be. "Why are you here, Draco?"

"I told them," he said quietly, clenching and unclenching his hands. "My parents. The press. I told everyone about us."

Astonished, Hermione reached out and touched her arm. "What? Why- why would you…? You didn't have to…"

With a sense of urgency, he broke the space between them, cupping her face in his hands, desperation in his voice as he whispered, "I had to do it. I couldn't look you in the eyes and tell that I… if I couldn't…" He looked determined in that moment.

"Tell me what?"

The pad of his thumb brushed against her cheekbone. "That I love you, you infuriating woman."

The ground felt like it shifted out from underneath her -but maybe that was just her quaking knees as his words seeped into the crevices of her heart. "You love me?"

"Actually… I do. Very much." He waited for response, but Hermione's brain short-circuited, momentarily, rendering her speechless. Gone was the cool, collected Draco- taking it as a sign of rejection, he quickly stumbled out, "But it's alright if you don't feel the same -I know we've only been seeing each other a handful of months, and-"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Stop." Her face lit up in a smile, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her eye level. "I love you, too."

"Yeah?" His face beamed with instant pride, and he smiled a genuine smile.

"Yeah." She nodded, jerking him down into a kiss that nearly knocked him off of his feet.

* * *

By the time Neville awoke, he found himself laying across a sunken in couch, head swimming and a bitter taste in his mouth. He attempted to sit up, trying to recall the how he had managed to pass out on the Weasley's sofa, when nausea overwhelmed him, and he barreled over the edge, upchucking into a conveniently placed trash-bin. There was an ache in his jaw, and upon further examination, he found it sore to the touch. "Bloody Hell…" he muttered, eyes focusing. The first person the came into view was Ginny as she applied a cold washcloth to his forehead, her face stoic.

"Hey," she said, "How you feeling, Neville?"

"Like I've been hit by a bludger," he replied as another wave of nausea overtook him, and he barely made it into the bin this time. He wiped away his vomit with the back of his hand, looking past Ginny to the deplorable glares of Ron, Harry, and the entire Weasley family. "Um… everything alright?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"That's a common side-effect," came a familiar voice from behind, and Neville turned his head upwards to find Malfoy standing behind the sofa, arms crossed, Hermione at his side. "Hello, _Long_ bottom. How's the jaw?"

"It hurts."

Malfoy smirked. "Good."

"I'm sorry, but-" Neville glanced around the room, "What happened? The last thing I remember was scafing down two pieces of cake in one go... " His stomach gurgled, as if the memory of the cake would make him vomit a third time. He put his hand on his abdomen and scrunched up his face. "Why is everyone looking at me that way?"

"Well, Neville, sweetheart," began Molly, wringing her hands together as she approached to stand beside Ginny, "You… you weren't in your right mind this evening."

"The confidence potion," Hermione jumped in, "It messed with your head."

"More than messed with your head," he heard Ron mutter, "You were a downright tosser."

"What?" Neville turned his eyes to Hermione. "What did I do?"

"To put it in terms you'd understand, Longbottom, you tried to pollinate _my_ flower." Malfoy curled an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her tight to him. Hermione's face was a mixture of concern and disgust, and she averted her gaze. What? What could Malfoy possibly…?

"Oh." Neville jerked upright, feeling the strain of his body, and fell right back down again. "Oh, no. Hermione -tell me I didn't-"

"You didn't," she said, assuring him. "As I've reminded everyone, I had the situation under control." Neville opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "-It's alright, Neville. You weren't in your right mind. No one blames you."

"Hmph," scoffed Ron, and Hermione shot him an incredulous glare.

"I am _so_ sorry, Hermione."

"On the bright side," chimed in George, "You gave me some wicked ideas for the joke shop. Think I could pick your brain sometime on all of those aphrodisiacal herbs?"

"George," Molly scolded, "This is hardly the time."

Neville glanced between Hermione and Draco, and finally pieced it together. "You hit me, didn't you?"

"Damn straight I did." Malfoy gave a hearty smirk.

Neville nodded. "Thanks."

He watched the blonde's face turn to one of surprise, but he shrugged it off and muttered, "Yeah, yeah. Someone's got to keep that big head of yours in line. -Just remember, Longbottom, if you ever decide to pull a stunt like that again, you'll be walking out of St. Mungo's with your testicles wrapped around your throat."

Neville gulped. "Duly noted."

* * *

 **Alright. So -to be clear. Everyone is going to have to take a moment to process this. Yes, Neville was bang out of line. But Hermione had her wand, and if she felt as if the situation wasn't under control, we all know she would have cast a full body-binding curse on him. I am, in no way , making light of forced sex, nor am I trying to glorify the act. With that in mind, reviews are most welcome. Flames? Eh, not so much. It all worked out in the end, and the next chapter will touch more on Neville's lament. Please, remember, he had no memory of his actions, and we'll delve more into why the potion made him act this way next chapter. Cool? Cool.**

 **~A.**


	29. A Bathroom

**All of the love for this fic -it warms my heart and my bones. Thank you so much! We're about 2-3 chapters away from the end. I hope you enjoy! Thank you Waymay for finding the time to edit this!**

 **~A.**

* * *

 **"My Girl's Ex-Boyfriend" by Relient K**

* * *

Draco Malfoy, for all intents and purposes, felt entirely out of place surrounded by the Weasley clan as Neville Longbottom pleaded apologies with Hermione in the corner of the quaint living room setting. Though he couldn't hear what was said, he could read Longbottom's desperation in his eyes, and Hermione's definitive scowl of disapproval. Draco ended up stuck standing up against a side wall, surrounded by Potter on the one side and Weasley on the other, which made for an awkward socialization as the three exchanged glances before looking off in all directions but on each other.

She-Weasley, or 'Ginny' as Hermione put it, approached the three with a tray of what appeared to be red, homemade punch with dollops of sherbet on top. "Thirsty?" she tried to cut the tension, and Potter was the first to take one of the drinks, thanking his wife kindly. Weasley crossed his arms and turned his face away, leaving Draco to be cordial enough to take one of the drinks and mutter out, "Thank you."

"Listen to those manners," Ginny quipped, smiling sweetly. "Hermione said you'd changed, but I never thought I'd see the day when you'd stand in my Mum's living room acting like a proper gentleman."

"He's not a proper gentleman," sneered Weasley, "He's just a git in a nice suit who said 'thank you.' That doesn't make him a saint."

"He's right," Draco smirked, looking between Ginny and Potter, "I'm no gentleman. Hermione can attest to that." He noticed the red-flare along Weasley's ears, feeling accomplished. "And anyway, I'm not here to make nice with you lot. I'm here for my girlfriend."

"Do you think you deserve her?" asked Potter. It wasn't in a condescending way like Draco initially expected, but more of a big-brother, cautious sort of tone.

"I'll admit, I haven't an excellent track record for earning trust from any of you," he replied, "But Hermione knows what sort of a man I am now. I hardly care less if you approve. But I know, for her sake, it would mean something. -Everything." He allowed his voice to trail off.

The group stood quietly for a time, and it was Ginny to speak first. "Well, after what I've heard, you have my vote. The necklace was a nice touch, as well."

"That was from you?" Potter raised both of his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering over to Hermione and the jewel around her neck. "Actually, I have no clue why I'm so surprised. It would be like you to shovel out expensive gifts."

"You're just bitter because you haven't adorned your witch with anything as beautiful," Draco muttered under his breath, and he heard Potter snort a laugh -a genuine laugh.

"Some things never change, do they, Malfoy?"

"Why are we even attempting to make nice with the likes of him?" asked Weasley, finally looking between the group. "Have we all gone bonkers?"

"It's called being adults, Ron," said Ginny, "You should try it sometime."

"Hmph."

"You know, Weasley," said Draco, tired of the pretenses and most certainly not wanting to have to put Hermione through any more pain, "I don't recall Hermione, once, to ever demean you for who you decided to date after your messy breakup."

"Yeah? Like you would know anything about that."

"As a matter of fact, we talk a lot about it," Draco said rather cold, despite the fact that inside his protective nature burned. There had been many-a-nights when Hermione and Draco would stay up -not going at it like bunnies- to talk, instead. Simply talk. And it was how he discovered Hermione's insecurities -her fear of commitment, her fear of allowing herself to feel anything. She didn't know he'd figured it out, but it wasn't hard to gather from the way that she explained her disastrous attempt at adventurous sex with Ron Weasley, only to have it blow up in her face. Or the fact that he gave her the silent treatment for nearly a year, before showing up at the Christmas party with a co-worker on his arm. "You didn't exactly treat Hermione's heart with much respect after being afraid of intimacy."

"I -I wasn't – how dare you-"

"Oh, I dare." Draco took a sip of his punch, caught off guard by the bite, and coughed half of it back into his cup. "Merlin's beard! Is that vodka?"

"Don't tell Mum," Ginny hushed him, "She hates it when I spike the drinks. But I thought we all could use some liquid courage to get us through the night."

Draco glanced down into his liquor-laced beverage, shrugged, and sipped on the drink gingerly. "Anyway, Weasley, the point is this: you don't have a say in her heart anymore. You botched that up just like I did Longbottom's confidence potion." Weasley stiffened, mulling over his words. Draco could tell it took everything in the redhead not to come back with some feeble attempt at an insult, but with the way his sister shot him a foreboding glare, he settled on grabbing up the last cup on her tray and chugging it down quickly.

To Draco's dismay, Arthur Weasley approached the group, one hand in his pocket and another carrying an unlit cigar. "Boys, care to join me?" His eyes rested on Ron, who eventually caved and pushed off of the wall, followed by Potter, towards the front door. When Arthur's eyes fell on the blond, Draco searched around the room and frowned. "Yes. I meant you as well, Malfoy."

Draco fought off the urge to go bug-eyed as he led Arthur through the front door and out onto the front porch. He pulled out of his pockets three more cigars and handed one to each of the men surrounding him before lighting each tip with his wand. Draco wasn't much on cigars, but he didn't want to be rude (especially since he was an uninvited guest), so he took a drag and blew out a smoke ring like his grandfather had taught him to when he was a young teen.

"Now," began Arthur, taking a seat in the one, lone rocking chair next to the front door, "I can't help to feel this is none of my business. However -I can't pretend that I don't notice the way you three have been casting avadas with your eyes, so… as the eldest man, I feel it might be necessary to step in."

Draco's eyes cast to the ground, ready for the reprimanding of a lifetime, but was surprised when Arthur's eyes did not fall on him, but on his son, instead.

"Ron, you need to take responsibility for your actions."

Weasley's mouth fell open, agape, the tip of his cigar built up with ash. "Me? Dad, Malfoy just showed up out of nowhere and-"

"-I'm quite aware of what Draco did, Ron. But he doesn't answer to me. You still do." Arthur took a pull of his cigar and blew one large ring and two smaller ones so that they each fit inside of each other in a dazzling performance. "Hermione is just as much a part of this family as you or Harry. We do not judge you based off of who you date, and you should take by our example."

"But… but it's Malfoy, Dad," Ron pleaded.

"I'm right here, you know…" Draco muttered, but Weasley ignored him.

"He has the Dark Mark on his arm. How can you be alright with-"

"Severus Snape had a Dark Mark," said Potter quietly, turning his face to his friend.

"Quite right, Harry," nodded Arthur. "And Draco isn't a Death Eater now, in any case. -Are you, my boy?"

Draco blinked. "I'm sorry to be forward, but – you hate me, don't you, Mr. Weasley? My entire family?"

"Your father and I don't see eye to eye on most things," Arthur said frigidly, but softened his eyes when he noticed Draco began to tense, "But we are not our father's mistakes, are we?"

Draco shook his head timidly. "No, sir."

"You'd do well to remember that, Ron."

Ron glanced between his father and Draco, soaking in the lesson. Just to spite him, Draco shot a hearty smirk his way and sipped a bit more of his punch. He watched the redhead scratch the tip of his nose, fidget with the collar of his shirt, and rub the back of his head like it was a crystal ball before he sighed and said, "Yeah, alright." He put the cigar to his lips, took a puff, and exhaled. "You can stay, then, if you want to, Malfoy. I know… it'd mean a lot to Hermione."

"Gee, Weasley. How generous," Draco rolled his eyes. "Is that the best you can do?"

"At this point? Yeah. It's what I've got." He looked Draco in the eyes. "But… given some time… just…"

"You'll treat her right, won't you?" asked Potter, jumping in to save Weasley. "That's all we want for her."

"That's all I want as well," Draco agreed, his voice softening. "If she wakes up and decides never to speak to me again, and it made her happy, I would do exactly that. Because, despite our past, I love her." He met eyes with Potter. "I do."

Potter nodded, finally taking a drag of his cigar. "Quidditch?" When Draco did not answer, merely stared at him stunned, he added, "Neville challenged us all to a game of Quidditch earlier. I vaguely remember you being an alright seeker."

Draco smirked, taking one more drag from his cigar. "We all know I was better than 'alright.'- A game of Quidditch sounds great."

"First, I suggest you grab yourself a slice of cake, Draco," suggested Arthur. "Molly spent all day making it, and I guarantee you if you don't have some, she will hold it against you for the rest of your life."

Draco chuckled, taking a few more puffs of his cigar before putting it out, placing it under a stasis charm on the edge of the porch, and retreating inside the house for the infamous cake. He was surprised when he couldn't find Hermione in the living room, so he checked in the kitchen as well. No Hermione there, but a downtrodden Neville Longbottom sat at the kitchen table, staring at the half-eaten three-tier cake with a numb expression on his face. He glanced up at Draco's entrance and smiled meekly.

"Hey."

"Hello. -Erm… I'm supposed to have a slice of cake. Arthur's orders."

"You call him Arthur now?" Neville raised both of his eyebrows. "This night just keeps getting stranger."

"Tell me about it." He sat opposite of Neville and cut himself a slice. "I _would_ say sorry for socking you in the jaw… but I'm not." Draco searched the table for a fork.

"If anything, you did us all a favor," Neville replied, scooting an unused fork across the table to Draco. He scooped it up, slopped off the icing (because, while he loved sugar, he didn't much enjoy icing) and dug his fork into his first bite, bringing it up to his lips. He was about to bite into it when his nostrils flared to life with smells. Nutmeg. Cinnamon. Bits of vanilla extract… his nose for Potions had made him a living encyclopedia of smells. The cogs in his head began to turn, and he stared down at his piece of cake.

"Of course…" He glanced up at Longbottom, brandishing the cake between them. "It makes sense, now."

"What does?"

"I couldn't figure it out. Why the confidence potion would turn you rabid on sexual trysts. All it should have done was make you an overly-confident twat. But… Longbottom. You've tried the cake."

"Yeah." Neville grimaced. "And if you don't want me chunking bits all over you, you wouldn't put that near my face."

"The cake," Draco said definitively, "It's the reason why you forced yourself on Hermione."

"What?"

"Essence of Dittany is an extremely sensitive ingredient. If the wrong amount is paired with certain herbs -it heightens the effect of those herbs. You tell me. What's in the cake?"

Longbottom's eyes widened, and he eyed the cake with interest. "Cinnamon and vanilla extract, for sure."

"Exactly." Draco took a bite of his cake to 'confirm his suspicions'-and also, he just really wanted some cake. He chewed, savored, and swallowed before saying, "The botched potion amplified the ingredients in this cake -cinnamon and vanilla are-"

"-aphrodisiacs!" Neville exclaimed, slapping his palm to his forehead. "Of course!"

"So, see?" Draco smirked. "You weren't acting like a sexual twat because it's in your nature -rather, you were high off of the cake."

"And I ate two slices." Longbottom nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. That'd do it, alright. -Thanks, Malfoy."

"What are friends for?"

"We're friends now?"

Draco shrugged. "Eh. You've grown on me. -Like Devil's Snare." He bit into another bit of cake. "Where's Hermione?"

"Said she needed some breathing room. She's still none too happy with me…" Neville folded his arms in his lap, anxious. "She says she's not cross with me, but I can tell she is."

"Do you blame her?"

"No. Not at all… still… I said some things that shook her up. For instance… the photographs."

Draco's eyes darted up to meet Longbottom's, and he stiffened in his chair. How on Earth had he managed that? "Those photos were private." The grip on his fork was dangerous- one slip, and it could easily go right into Neville's eye…

"I'm aware." Neville stared, determined not to break the eye contact. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I shouldn't have gone through your room."

"You went into my _room_? We need to have a serious talk about personal boundaries."

"I know it was wrong -but up until yesterday, I'd been convinced you and Hermione were no good for each other. I kept trying to figure out ways to prove it to her. I guess, there was still a part of me, even tonight, that still fancied her."

"She's a beautiful woman," Draco said quietly, "I can hardly blame a man for wanting her. But just so we're clear -I'm going to do everything in my power to keep her."

"And I respect that," Neville agreed. "I won't try to come between you two."

"Great." Draco smirked, setting his cake down. "Look, I'm going to go find Hermione and sort all this out. Just… quit moping around, alright? It brings down the room."

"Thanks… Draco." Neville smiled sincerely. "I mean… for everything. For hitting me. For sorting all of this out. I can't thank you enough."

"Stop with the mush, or I'll change my mind." Draco smiled, pushed in his chair, and strolled back out into the living room, where a game of wizard's chess had begun between some of the elder Weasley brothers, their wives sitting at a corner table, conversing. Ginny was the only one seated with the men, cheering George Weasley on as he made a move against Bill Weasley. She looked up when she saw Draco enter the room, and pointed up to the second floor. Draco nodded, mouthed, 'got it' and climbed the staircase subtly, no one taking real notice of him (aside from Ginny, who smiled).

When Draco was up the staircase and out of earshot from the living room, he glanced about to each of the doors upstairs. Finding one cracked open, he carefully made his way to the end of the hall, and as he got closer, he could hear the small, melodic sobs of Hermione. Politely, he knocked on the door before opening it all the way, finding Hermione seated on the vanity of the Weasley bathroom counter, her face in her hands. Her head popped up when he entered, and Draco shut the door quietly behind him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey back."

He walked up to her and rubbed her cheeks with the back of his sleeve. She laughed, half-hearted, and said, "You'll ruin your shirt."

"Don't care." He smirked. "Now, I came up here to land you with some good news, and here I find you crying your eyes out. You're ruining the evening."

She stuck her tongue out at him but smiled all the same. "I, usually, have a talent for keeping my emotions tucked inside, but tonight, they seem to have erupted. I just…"

"Longbottom's behavior," Draco offered, "It was provoked."

"Provoked?"

"The cake. It contains some aphrodisiacs that, when mixed with an over-confidence potion, lead to some very… unideal effects."

"That's putting it lightly."

"Longbottom, literally, couldn't control himself. -I'm not making light of his actions; I just wanted you to know it wasn't him. It's alright to forgive him."

She stared at him and placed a hand on his cheek. "How is it you know me so well?"

"Grew up with you, remember?"

Hermione laughed and leaned forward, kissing his cheek delicately. "You pay attention more than you let on. -I noticed Arthur pulled you outside. Is everything…?"

"Fine," he assured her. "He even set Weasley in his place, if you can believe it."

"Oh, I believe it."

They smiled at each other, and Draco was afraid to tear his eyes away for even a moment, dare he destroy the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. "I meant it, you know. When I said I love you."

Hermione nodded, placing a hand on the back of his neck to draw circles with her fingers along his spine. "I meant it, too."

"I should have told you sooner. If I had, all of this could have been avoided."

"You think so?" She raised an eyebrow, letting her lips fall into a smirk. "You think your love could have stayed all of this?"

"Oh, I know it. My love for you could move mountains… or bedframes." He matched her smirk with one of his own. Glancing about the bathroom, he let an idea form in his head, solidify, and pushed it to the forefront of his mind. "Isn't this ironic?"

"Pardon?" Hermione looked at him, perplexed.

"Isn't this room what split you and Weasley up in the first place? Rather, the idea procured by doing intimate things while a party raved on downstairs…"

Her eyes went wide, and she gasped. "Draco!"

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her ear, whispering, "I'm just saying, wouldn't it be fitting to mark off something from _your_ list, Miss Granger?" He noticed she couldn't suppress the shudder he elicited as his breath tickled the shell of her ear.

"You're serious?"

"Most definitely. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted." He pushed himself between her legs, thankful that the vanity counter was a correct height so that he aligned perfectly against her, their clothes separating the, now, obvious need for each other that happened in a matter of seconds. His fingers brushed up her legs, to the hem of her skirt as he latched onto her neck with his teeth, provoking a low moan. Chuckling, he muttered against her throat, "Shhh… I didn't put any charms on the door, Hermione."

He heard her sigh desperately, and, out of nowhere, her leg curled around his hips and jerked him forward, rubbing his erection into her covered sex. Draco took no time in sliding his fingers up the trail of her outer thighs before hooking his thumbs under the edges of her underwear and tugging them down, down, down. He backed away from her to slip them off her ankles, and, with a toss over his shoulder, he reached for his belt buckle. Hermione's hands darted out, yanking him forward again, fumbling over the buckle and undoing it in one, fluid motion.

Draco looked back at the door, just once, to make sure it was properly shut before he allowed her to untuck his firm cock from his pants. As her fingers gripped around the length, he let out a hiss of breath, torn between letting her palm him for a few minutes or sinking himself deep into her pussy. Hermione made the choice for him, grabbing his tie, pulling him forward, and aligning him perfectly against her. Once again, he found himself left with the decision to halt or fall right into her -and, like before, he chose to fall. He slipped a hand behind her neck and played with the hair at the nape, while his other hand gripped her hip, lips brushing against hers as he pressed the head of his cock against her. He took her painfully slow, relishing the feeling of her constrict around him and the sounds of her gasping as she took his cock one inch at a time. He knew this would drive her mad, especially when she was forced to be quiet, and when he finally had filled her up all the way to the base of his cock, he sighed happily and looked her deep in her eyes. "Quiet now," he teased, before jerking out of her to the tip only to slam hard back inside. Her head fell back, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. Draco closed his eyes, lost in the sensation as she tightened around him. He repeated the process, though this time, he worked slowly as he removed his cock before driving home with a harsh thrust.

Hermione leaned back against the mirror, undoing the buttons of her blouse to expose her breasts, clad in a lacy white bra. Draco smirked, leaned down, and kissed atop each one before trailing his lips up to hers and kissing her roughly. Without hesitation, he pulled out of her, yanked her off the vanity, spun her around, and bent her over. Her hand hit one of the bars of soap, knocking it into the sink. They both laughed. He met her eyes in the mirror, and he watched greedily as her breasts heaved up and down while she bit her lower lip. "Take me, Draco."

Happy to oblige, he slammed back into her, taking her from behind in a display of possessiveness. Her body jerked forward each time he thrust, bouncing her tits and making her mewl. Leaning forward, he cupped one of her breasts with his left hand while he rested his right on the counter to brace himself as he shoved into her harder. "You're such a naughty girl, Hermione," he whispered against the crook of her neck. "Getting your pussy pounded while everyone else is downstairs…" He received a happy sigh in response, and it made the corner of his mouth pull upwards. He gave her a few more good poundings before slowing his hips down to a grind, loving the way her eyes fluttered closed and her teeth chewed on her lips.

"Oh, Draco," she gasped as his fingers slipped their way under her bra and began to play with her nipple. The sight of her beneath him, moaning his name… it was all he could ever hope for. Ever since he was a teenage boy, he'd fantasized about moments like these with Gryffindor's bookworm. Instead, he wasted precious time pursuing useless endeavors with witches that neither cared about him or his needs. Hermione, however, fit every criterion in his book. Smart. Affectionate. She believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself. And best of all, she loved him. She'd seen his flaws and still willed her heart to him. It was humbling in ways he didn't know possible, and he hoped he could give his heart back to her tenfold.

"I love you," he whispered, ceasing his movements, still buried deep inside of her.

Her eyes fell back open after a moment, and she stared back at his reflection, lips parted, face shrouded in lust. Even so, she fought it back long enough to stand upright, tucking her hand around to the back of his head to pull him closer, so that their noses met. "I love you, too," she told him, sealing her words with a kiss. He moved, then, grinding himself against her while sliding a hand between her legs to play with her clit. She moaned into his mouth happily, and with a renewed sense of yearning, she bent forward, bracing both of her hands against the vanity. Draco's fingers still rubbing her clit, he started back up his heavier thrusting. After several reminders to her to moan _quietly_ , she tightened around his cock in one last hurrah; eyes squeezed tight, and mouth parted. It was spectacular, watching her reflection as she came. She looked so satisfied, in that moment. Not just sexually, but emotionally. It gave Draco Malfoy a sense of purpose in life; as long as he could continue to put that expression on her face, his life meant something.

Another two thrusts later, burying himself inside her to the hilt of his cock, he came. Draco swore he could see stars dance across his vision as he filled her up, taking in the pants and wanton gasps that filled his ears. This time, it was her to remind him not to be loud, and he chuckled, squeezing his eyes tight to shake the streaks of light behind his eyes. "Wow…" he sighed, leaning his head against her shoulder. "Just… wow."

She giggled softly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He kissed her shoulder and rubbed his nose against her. "So tell me… how was it?" She laughed again, and it caught him off guard. He raised his head and glanced at her in the mirror, noticing she had placed her hand over her mouth to stifle her fit of giggles. "What's so funny?"

"It just…" she stifled her laughter long enough to say, "It all comes full circle, doesn't it? The very reason I left my job at the Ministry and became a healer- which in turn, led me to become a teacher -to meeting you again… it all just…"

He understood. "If Weasley hadn't turned you down for bathroom sex, we'd have never found each other again."

She put her hand on her mouth again, laughing like a crazy person. "And now here we are…"

Draco smirked, kissing her cheek while simultaneously withdrawing himself from her. They both groaned, Draco from the sensitivity of his cock, and after tucking himself back into his trousers, he turned her around to face him. "The universe has an odd way of working itself out," he mused. "If you'd never come to Hogwarts, I don't think I'd ever allowed myself to be so… open. About sex. Hell, about anything."

Hermione smiled, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. -Oh, if only my teenage self could hear me now…"

"She'd probably be jealous," he quipped, giving her a flirtatious grin. Carefully, he straightened her skirt out, helped her button her shirt, and retrieved her panties from the bathroom floor. "I'm ever so tempted to rip this set too and force you to go stark under your skirt."

"Don't you dare!" she exclaimed, seizing them at once. "Undergarments don't grow on trees, you know. This pair cost me a pretty galeon."

"Yes, but you're dating _me_ , remember? I'll buy you a hundred pairs just like them."

She narrowed her eyes, tucking them behind her back. "Even still. Maybe I'd like to keep them if it's all the same. Call it sentimental reasons."

There was a knock on the bathroom door that made them both jump. "Hey, you two!" came the voice of Ginny Weasley, a spout of smugness in her tone. "The boys are getting ready for Quidditch! Are you done with the love-making? Or should I tell them to wait until you're dressed?"

Hermione bounded to the door, swinging it open. "Ginny Weasley! You hush your mouth right now."

"How long have you been outside that door, Weasley?" Draco chided.

Ginny merely shrugged and smiled. "I laid some clothes out in George's old room down the hall, Malfoy. They should be adequate to play Quidditch in."

"Thanks…" he raised an eyebrow. "They're… not going to be an itchy ensemble of wool, are they?"

"It's jeans and a sweatshirt. You should be fine." Ginny glanced over to the vanity, where nearly every item on it had been toppled over. "Naughty, naughty." She winked at the two of them and shut the door firmly. Hermione turned back to Draco, her face as red as a tomato.

"Well… she's never going to let me live that down," she muttered, laughing. "Quidditch, then?"

"Quidditch," he agreed, seizing the opportunity to dive forward and yank her underwear from her gasp.

"Draco! Give those back!"

"Nope." He tucked them into his pocket and smirked. Hermione swatted him on the arm but gave up when he kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Oh. One more thing." He reached down to the cuffs of his shirt, untucking each cufflink with careful precision before plucking her hand from her side and slipping them into it. "You'll be needing these back, Miss Granger."

She grinned up at him, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Are you sure?"

"Think of it as giving you my heart," he told her, "As long as you're in possession of those, I know where I belong."

She smiled softly. "Then… I'll never return them."

"Sounds like a plan to me, Hermione. Best one you've ever come up with."

* * *

 **Feel free to leave a review! Only a little bit left of this story to go!**  
 **~A.**


	30. A Victory

**Oh wow! Here we are! The final two chapters. Posting them at once. I want to thank everyone for following, favoriting, and reviewing this story thus far. It has been a trip, a lesson, and an experience that I will remember, always. Sex Ed -tell your friends!**

 **And, as always, thank you Waymay for helping me out, feeding me plot ideas, and putting up with my constant texting. XD Waymay's Empire has 4 chapters now, and I highly recommend if you loved the comedy in Sex Ed. Waymay is far more hilarious than myself. Please, give her story some love!**

 **LightofEvolution, thank you so, so much for giving me this plot bunny. It has become such a wild adventure trying to tame it! I hope you love this, and the epilogue. I hope it warms your heart, and I hope you get everything you deserve and want (here, and in life.) You're a sweet soul, and you deserve the best. -LightofEvolution also has two amazing stories, High On Magic and Branches (which is complete!) If you're looking for some fun mystery, try these fics.**

 **Also, if you're wondering what to read after this is done, besides what I've listed above, I still have Bond (smut) , How To Train Your Auror (mystery), How To Train Your Auror Two, Drinking Buddies (filled with smut, still fixing my editing mistakes before my days with Waymay) and Pitch (one shot). Enjoy those, and hopefully I'll see you guys enjoying those as well! Much love.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran**

* * *

Draco stared, pensively, at the witch, who managed to capture his heart, sleeping so soundly in the bed next to him, thanking the stars above she loved him back. She looked adorable with strands of tight curls resting over her nose as she snored soundlessly, dreaming whatever it was she dreamt about. Parchment, perhaps? Or mathematical figures? One could never be too sure when it came to Hermione Granger.

Finding it difficult to sleep, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up to look around the tent, fashioned like a quaint, one bedroom flat, in the Weasley's backyard. If his teenage self could see him now -he'd probably die of a heart attack. Or mortification. Or both.

He decided if he couldn't sleep, he'd maybe like some fresh air. Settle his nerves. After all, he'd only just confessed his love for Hermione hours before. And befriended Neville Longbottom. And sat at the Weasley picnic table after a ruggish game of Quidditch to which him and Potter beat out Weasley and Longbottom, amongst other of the Weasley clan.

Wow. He wasn't sure he could take much more of this alternate universe without his head spinning.

He slipped on his pair of trousers and dress shoes and exited the tent. He was surprised to see someone standing outside another tent opposite of him; Weasley. Ron Weasley, to be exact. In his hands was the cigar from his father, and when his eyes caught with Draco, he blew a large puff of smoke through his nostrils.

"Taking up the habit?" Draco asked, a slight tease in his voice. He had half a mind to whip right back around inside of the tent in retreat -but he caught himself and stood his ground.

"Erm… just needed to… clear my head," the redhead replied, quiet. Daunting. "You're up late."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Yeah." Weasley nodded. "I know the feeling."

The two men stared each other down for a time, until Draco grew bored of the silence and decided to play nice (for Hermione). "Good game tonight." He rubbed the back of his head in nervousness. Being nice, especially to Weasley, was not something he was accustomed to.

Weasley's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, but he caught himself and cleared his throat, muttering, "Yeah. Wasn't really a fair game, though, was it? I had Neville on my team. And you had George."

"You have to admit, though, it was entertaining to watch him dangle upside down for ten minutes trying to figure out how to turn right side up."

"Maybe for you!" Weasley cracked a smile. "Those ten minutes cost us in the game."

"Weasley, your team was so far behind, you're taking the piss if you thought you could catch up in those ten minutes."

Both men, despite standing idly across from their childhood rival, started to laugh. Real laughs. Telling laughs. Draco felt his stomach tighten at the realization that, somehow, he had bonded with a Weasley over Quidditch. How very, very strange.

"I still don't like you," Weasley said, point a finger at Draco as he chuckled.

"I don't like you!" Draco laughed back. "I -ahaha- I never have!"

"I think you're a whiny, spoiled brat!"

"I think you're a degraded piece of shit!"

"I've had fantasies where you've fallen off your broom and broke your arm."

"I put itching powder in your Quidditch gear to sabotage your games at Hogwarts."

"That was _you_?"

Draco roared in laughter, now, having to barrel over and support his hands on his legs to keep from falling over. "I fucking hate you, Weasley."

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. "The feeling's mutual, Malfoy. -Oh, come on. It's not that …mhmmh… ahaha… haha a- funny!"

Draco couldn't help it. The laughing kept up until his sides hurt and he could hardly catch his breath. Weasley dropped his cigar, clutching his stomach as he, too, burst forward in a fit of unmanly giggles. From a tent aways down, George Weasley emerged, smiling.

"It works, then."

"What?" Draco could hear Weasley ask, bewildered through his own laughter.

"Laughing powder. Put it in both your shoes before you went to bed. This is going to be wizard at the joke shop…"

"Fucking… ahaha… Weasleyssahaha…" Draco fell over in a barrel of laughs.

* * *

 **Three Months Later**

* * *

Hermione stood outside of the Great Hall, awaiting the students to file in for their final exam of Biology: the Sexual Education portion of their curriculum. Fourth through Seventh years were seated at individual desks inside, each with a nameplate for their designated seating. The exam would be a third of their Biology grade.

"What happens if I fail this course?" asked Bradley Wayne as he approached the entryway.

Hermione shot him a foreboding smile. "Considering your exam scores for the rest of my class, I would advise you not to fail."

"Come now, Wayne," said a cool, collected voice from behind. Draco Malfoy approached Hermione's side, a smirk perched across his face. "Let's do our best for poor Professor Granger here."

"But if I fail, that means I get to do another year with you, doesn't it?" Wayne asked Hermione. "It's tempting…"

"Oh, get in there," Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I'm much too old for you!" She turned attention on her boyfriend. "And you! That wasn't helpful at all. 'Poor Professor Granger?' Are you trying to encourage the failing of this course?" She jostled him in the ribs. Draco's smirk widened, and he shrugged. "So you don't care if I never return to teach here again?"

"Oh, I never said that," he winked at her. "I have to admit, you've grown on me." He untucked a small, folded paper from his pocket and slipped it in her hand.

"What's this?"

"Just put it in your pocket."

"Why?" she raised an eyebrow. "Is it going to explode? Or catch my robes on fire?"

Draco merely shrugged again. "You don't trust me?"

Hermione glanced around the entryway, and, when she saw no students momentarily, she pulled Draco off behind one of the large Great Hall doors and kissed him square on the lips. "Just tell me if it's a prank."

"It's a note, Hermione," he rolled his eyes. "Paper. Ink. A spritz of my cologne. That's it."

"Oh." She glanced down at the paper and slipped it in her pocket. "Well, that's good then."

Draco tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. "Ready?"

"Let's."

They untucked themselves from behind the doorway, waited two more minutes for any trailing students, and then shut the large hall doors with a wave of their wands.

Hermione approached the podium first, meeting eyes with Neville, who stood at the back of the Hall, hands tucked in his pockets and a lazy smile on his face. Over the last three months, Hermione found it in her heart to forgive him completely for his idiocies that night at the Weasley's -it was much easier thanks to Draco's discovery of the cake being the main source of Neville's advances. And since Professor L gave up on his conquest to destroy the 'Dramione' couple (as the school had now coined them), he and Draco had grown quite close towards the end of the year. Enough that the two had gone out for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron one night after work, and Neville bumped into Hannah Abbott. The former Hufflepuff, according to Draco, seemed easier on the eyes since their days in Hogwarts, and Neville fell in love nearly instantly. 'Or he thought with his prick,' Draco had said, shrugging, 'But to a man, is there much of a difference?'

It was nice to see Neville so happy, carefree, and - sure of himself. He gave her a soft wave, and she waved back. Later, after all exams were graded, they all made plans to go out for drinks together. It was a nice change of pace, Draco Malfoy getting along with everyone Hermione held dear. It, truly, proved how much he loved her.

"Good afternoon! Today will conclude your last day of Sex Ed. This exam represents one third of your Biology grade, so I encourage all of you to take this as seriously as possible. The written exams will appear on your desks momentarily, and Professor L, Malfoy, and myself with be monitoring for any cheating. Does everyone have a quill? Ink? Any questions? Right -let's begin."

Hermione waved her wand and conjured exams for each and every desk in the Great Hall. As she began to pace between the rows of students, she caught eyes with Draco across the way, who raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head, pointing to his clipboard. 'Distracted?' he mouthed.

She rolled her eyes in response and mouthed back, 'Hardly.'

They crossed paths in the center, and Hermione felt her pocket vibrate. With her back to Draco, she reached inside of her pocket, pulling out his note, which now buzzed against her hand like a cell phone. She glanced back at him, but he was busy scribbling something onto his clipboard to take notice of her. Curious, she opened up the paper and pressed it against her own clipboard, smoothing out the creases. Words appeared across the paper -in real time.

 _'_ _You really should stop flirting with your potion's professor, Miss Granger.'_

Hermione laughed out loud, distracting the student next to her. "Eyes down at your work, Miss Wallum," she said at once, scolding herself inwardly for being so childish. She untucked a pencil from her hair and scribbled back,

 _'_ _Two way parchment? What are you? Twelve?'_

She heard him chuckle from across the Hall, and his eyes connected with hers for but a moment before he gave her a scolding expression, pointed around to the students, and mouthed, 'Focus on your work!'

New words appeared on the paper. _'What are you wearing under those robes?'_

"Nice try, Mister Renaldo," Hermione said, tearing her eyes away from her clipboard and grabbing up what she recognized as an ever-notes quill, courtesy of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They were designed to hoard stored notes and write them down when asked questions, meant to practice for exams. Not for actual exams. Well, knowing George, they might be. "I happen to know the man who designed this quill." She stuck it in her pocket and handed him an ordinary one from her pockets. "Fifty points from Slytherin."

Renaldo looked horrified down at the paper, and Hermione wrote back to Draco, _'This is highly inappropriate for two professors.'_

They met again down another aisle, but neither one of them looked each other in the eye. Though Draco did manage to whisper, "You're no fun."

Again, he wrote on his paper, and it appeared on hers. _'We have a bet to settle, Professor Granger.'_

The corners of Hermione's lips turned up, and she wrote back, _'Indeed, we do.'_

 _'_ _Care to raise the stakes?'_

"What are you writing?" Neville asked as Hermione passed him on their rounds. She, immediately, dropped her clipboard to her side.

"Neville, I'm trying to get ahead on what songs you're going to sing at karaoke tonight," she answered quickly, making the Herbology teacher pale.

"Hermione, you know I don't sing."

"Nonsense. Hannah says you have a wonderful voice."

She patted him on the top of the head and, after passing him, pulled her clipboard back up to her eye line and scribbled, _'What did you have in mind?'_

 _'_ _Winner chooses something from the list.'_

Oh, Hermione liked the sound of that. _'It's nearly complete, now.'_

 _'_ _I've added a few things.'_

 _'_ _Have you?'_ Hermione hadn't pulled out her list copy in quite some time. Read it is now all she wanted to do.

 _'_ _Yes.'_

She tried hard not to giggle as she wrote, ' _Alright. Bet.'_

' _Wonderful. -So, are you wearing panties? Or is it starkers under that Hogwarts regulation uniform?_ '

Hermione rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

* * *

"Oh God," Hermione moaned as Draco kneeled between her legs, lapping happily at her clit in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. Her hands fisted his hair as his tongue licked at her like she was the last lolly at Honeydukes. "Mmm… don't stop…"

Hermione's skirt, underwear, and shirt had been discarded somewhere in the last aisle over. Draco, still fully clothed, parted her legs further apart with the guidance of his hands, expertly tonguing her while humming happily against her swollen bud. When her legs began to quake, he cupped the cheeks of her ass and scooted her forward, rolling her hips in time with each and every movement of his tongue. The rest of Hogwarts was celebrating their last day before summer vacation with a final game of Quidditch; Ravenclaws and Slytherins versus Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. A perfect time for two professors to sneak away unnoticed for some last minutes of fun.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, "Right there, like that… fuck…" She closed her eyes and tried to quiet herself as her hips bucked automatically; Draco was, really, a very skilled oral artist with that soft tongue of his. "I'm… I'm so close…" For years, she'd fantasized about fooling around in the Restricted Section. Now, she had just one more thing to check off her list. Especially since she was the one to win the bet.

* * *

"What?" Draco gasped, snatching up the results as Hermione giggled into her hand. "There has to be some bloody mistake. These children are magical. How the Hell could they soak in the muggle lessons more than the magical ones?"

Hermione roared in laughter as she buried her face in her arms folded over the desk in her dorm. "I win!" She shouted happily. "I… ahaha.. I win!"

"You rigged it," he narrowed his eyes, though his tone was playful.

"Hardly." She stifled her laughter long enough to add, "I, simply, must be a better Professor than you."

"Hey. You've won the bet, but I wouldn't go that far." He crumbled the results paper up and tossed it over his shoulder. "Alright, Miss Granger," he grumbled, "You've… won."

"Sorry?" She tore her head up and smiled. "I think I'm going deaf. I could barely hear you…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You've _won_. Happy?"

"Oh, yes. I'm ecstatic." She pointed her finger at him. "Have fun grading papers next school year. I think I'll start off with prostate exams."

Draco winced. "Alright. Gloating over, Professor." He spun her chair around, scooped her up over his shoulder, and carried her to the bed before tossing her down on it. Before Hermione had time to retaliate, he had already climbed on top of her and begun to kiss down the length of her neck. "Shall we celebrate your victory with a shag?"

"Mmmh… nice try, Draco." She pushed him off of her and flipped them so that she was on top. "I _do_ recall I get to pick something from the list, now."

"You do." He nodded. Hermione scrambled over to her pillow, lifted it, and revealed her copy list. "What is _that_?"

"It's your list. Well, a copy," she admitted. When he stared at her, disbelieving, she added, "I blame your Slytherin nature rubbing off on me."

"You've had a copy of my list the entire time?" he looked to it, concerned. "Have… have you read it, recently?"

"No," she shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. "Why?" Why did he look relieved when she denied looking at the list?

He released a long breath of air and muttered, "Good. -Well… open it up now, then."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but did as she was told. A blush crept up her cheeks all the way to her ears as she noticed all of the recent checks off of the list as they neared completion. She took a moment to graze down the list with leisure before she found, in bright green ink, a new suggestion scribbled at the bottom, near the foot of the page. She looked at it once, twice, three times, before looking back up to him and read it aloud.

"Travel Europe with Hermione Granger on summer vacation."

Draco cleared his throat, wetted his lips with his tongue, and shifted upright on the bed. "Erm… yeah. That's… that's one of the suggestions."

Hermione looked down to the list and then back up to him with a smile. "That's quite a Slytherin way of asking."

He smirked. "Well?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Draco threw a fist into the air. "Fuck yes!"

* * *

"Fuck yes," Draco muttered against Hermione's throat, pounding into her again and again against the sturdy frame of the Restricted Section's back wall of books. Hermione groaned in his ear, tightening her legs around his hips. True, they weren't being the quietest, but they'd hardly get another chance to have the entire library alone to themselves. They'd been going at it like bunnies for the last hour or so, but neither one of them planned to call it quits any time soon. "Fuck, you're so wet, Hermione…"

"Your fault," she teased, licking along the shell of his ear as he slammed particularly hard into her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and Draco relished in the pain.

Draco could feel a bead of sweat drip down his forehead, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the satisfied moan from Hermione's throat and the elation across her face before he kissed her hard and rough and telling. He loved this witch. More than anything else -more than himself. And, for once in Draco Malfoy's life, he didn't care if he'd lost the bet. He'd lose a thousand bets if it meant having Hermione in his life today, tomorrow, forever. "Gonna… marry you… one day…" he groaned as he sent her into her fifth orgasm of the afternoon. The back of Hermione's head hit the bookcase so hard that it knocked several books down around them. Her mouth parted. Her moan was telling. She loved the idea as much as he did.

* * *

Ron Weasley stood outside of his mother's house, staring down at the unwrapped Nimbus 2K3 that came in the mail just this morning. His fingers graced over the wooden handle, the neatly molded bristles, the footrests at the bottom. Had this edition even been released in the shops yet? Ron couldn't recall…

Molly Weasley stepped out the front door, startled by the gorgeous broomstick in her son's hand. "What's that, dear? Did you buy a new broom?"

"I… it was just sitting here. With this." Ron held up a small note between his fingers.

On it, it read, _'To Ron Weasley. –Thanks for being such a fuck up.'_

* * *

 ** _:) Don't forget the epilogue!  
~A._**


	31. An Epilogue

**Sex Ed**  
 **Dedicated to LightofEvolution.  
** ~From MrBenzedrine and Waymay  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **"On Top Of The World" by Imagine Dragons**

* * *

Hermione sat hunched over her desk in her office, furrowing her eyebrows together at Liam Killingsworth's atrocious examples of what he thought were 'early signs of pregnancy.' Amongst his list included, 'being really, really mean,' 'complaining' and 'becoming allergic to watermelon.'

"I really hope I don't have to fail him this term," she muttered.

A knock to her office door had her head raising up in anticipation, and she met the warm, bright eyes of a sixth year Lidia Penelope Cornelia. In her hands was a small basket filled to the brim with muffins. Hermione's stomach gurgled at the sight. Merlin, was she ever hungry.

"Miss Cornelia," she greeted the young witch, "Come in."

Lidia strolled up to the desk and plopped down the basket.

"What's this?" Hermione asked.

"It's an anniversary gift! For my _favorite_ Professor Malfoy."

Professor Malfoy. Yes, Hermione was still getting used to that one. She glanced down at the glistening diamond ring on her left finger, accented with sapphires (her birthstone).

"Anniversary?" she raised an eyebrow.

"It's been two years since you started teaching here. Can you believe it?"

"Has it been?" Hermione glanced up at the calendar. Lately, her head was in such a fog -she hadn't felt much like herself at all. The last two weeks, she was sure she was coming down with a cold. Her body ached, she was sick to her stomach, and she was far more sluggish than usual. Still, one look at those muffins had her excited to eat. "Oh my goodness, it has, hasn't it?" She giggled into her hand and plucked a muffin from the top. "Thank you, Lidia. This was so very kind of you." She bit into the blueberry flavored pastry, mouth gushing with saliva as she chewed happily. "Oh my word. These are simply amazing!"

"Thank you! Made them myself!"

"How did you manage that?"

"Convinced the elves in the kitchen to let me cook with them."

"I always knew you were a smart witch." Hermione grinned. "So, could you do us both a favor and convince your boyfriend to, please, try a little harder in my classroom?"

Lida picked up a muffin for herself and nibbled. "Honestly, Professor, no matter how hard I try, I don't think there will be any help for him." Both witches laughed. Hermione was so very proud to have a student like Lidia.

"Alright now," she waved her hand, "Off you pop. I have papers to grade, and you have class to attend."

Lidia stood up, waved gleefully to her professor, and skipped out of the room. Hermione took another bite of her muffin, lost in thought. Being married, she found, was better than anything else. Draco was attentive, caring, and still wildly charismatic in his sexual advances. True, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy barely tolerated her on almost all levels, but, luckily, her family had taken Draco right in as their son-in-law.

"Oh, come on, Liam," she groaned, reading over his five paragraph essay on childbirth. "It's called the umbilical cord, not the umbrella chord… I pray that boy never reproduces…"

"You and me both."

Hermione looked up from her grading to find Draco standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his own wedding ring glistening on his left hand. "Hello," she smiled.

"Hello." He smiled back. "Why don't you take a break?"

"I can't," she muttered, "I've put these tests off for three days already."

"Still getting over that spout of food poisoning?"

"I'm better today," she said, holding up her muffin. "See? Sustenance."

"I'm so proud of you." He stuck out his tongue and strolled across the room, behind her chair. There, he placed one hand on each of her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, "Does that mean you're up to a little… frivolous activity?"

"Draco." She tried to shrug his hands off, though only half hearted. "I'm trying to work."

"So?" He kissed her cheek. "I want to ravish my wife. Sue me."

"Help me grade these papers, then." She pushed Liam's parchment up into his face.

"Yeah, don't care." Turning her chair around, he placed his hands on the armrests and caged her in. Hermione, giving up, leaned in to kiss him -and then covered her mouth, shaking her head. She dove underneath his arms, out of the chair, and dry heaved into the nearby trashcan. "Oh my goodness!" she gasped when she was through.

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey," Draco offered, concerned.

"No, I'm fine. Really." She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, collecting drool. "Oh, I just wish I knew why I felt so bad…" She stood up, with Draco's help, and made her way back to her desk. There, she sighed, irritated, and picked up a new essay to grade. Liam's was far too full of errors to be taken seriously at the moment. It just so happened that she picked up Lidia's test. "Now, this is is how you score on an exam!" she muttered, holding it up for Draco to see. "Do you know Liam wrote down 'craving tacos' as a sign of pregnancy?"

"My mother craved squid while pregnant with me," Draco shrugged, "Maybe he's speaking from personal experience?"

"Perhaps," she mumbled, "But look at these answers that Lidia's given. Food aversion and naseua. Fatigue. Mood swings. Headaches. Breast tenderness. These are much more applicable answers than," she picked up Liam's paper, "allergies to watermelon."

"He really didn't put that, did he?" Draco scooped up the paper and laughed. "And I thought I was sexually repressed at sixteen. This takes the cake."

"Oh God… don't mention cake…" Hermione groaned, holding her stomach at the thought. And then… "What if…" She raised her head, still clutching her stomach, and scrambled her graded papers out of the way to find her calendar under the stack.

"Whoa, slow down there," Draco said, "What's got your knickers in such a twist?"

"December… December…" She perked her head up, back down at the calendar, and then turned, slowly, to Draco. "Of course."

"Of course what?" he scowled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, smiling. "Nothing's wrong, Draco." She stood from her chair, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him chastely on the lips. "Be right back."

She ran over to her medical bag, picked it up, and excused herself to the loo. Draco stared at her in confusion, and Hermione told him she'd be right back. She wouldn't be long.

* * *

"It isn't food poisoning," she said when she returned, a large smile creeping across her lips. She sat him down in her chair, took a seat on top of his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It isn't?" he asked, confused, rooted to his spot as his eyes raked over her face, looking for answers. "Why are you smiling that way? What? Do I have something in my teeth?" Hermione shook her head.

"Do you recall that little romp we had underneath the Christmas tree last month?"

Draco smirked, recalling. "Quite literally one of the best shags we've ever…" He'd figure it out. In three… two… one… his eyes rested on Lidia's essay. Slowly, but surely, the cogs in his brain began to turn, and he looked back into Hermione's eyes, full of questions. And then surprise. And then… happiness. "You're… we're… are you…?"

She nodded. "We're having a baby, Professor Malfoy." She plucked the pregnancy test from her pockets and presented it to him. "The two little lines confirm it. I'm pregnant!"

Draco stared in wonder at the pregnancy test in her hands, inhaling, trying to sort out his thoughts in his head before he sputtered out, "Sweet baby dragons… I'm going to be a father?"

"You're going to be a wonderful father," she said.

Draco smirked, taking the news in. "Yeah, I will, won't I?" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to him, so that they were nose to nose. "We're having a baby."

"We're having a baby."

He laughed, kissing her on the lips. "Potter cannot be the godfather," he said at once.

Hermione laughed along with him, rolling her eyes. "Care to bet on it?"

 **~FIN~**


End file.
